


Ten of Swords

by irithyll



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Claire is definitely nineteen, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Horror, Leon isn't such a rookie this time, Romance, Violence, canon? I hardly know her, dark themes, how things could have gone, psychopaths? in my story? it's more likely than you think, sherry isn't here anymore ms. redfield, teenagers try to save the day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-01-15 03:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18490333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irithyll/pseuds/irithyll
Summary: Ever since the passing of her parents, Claire had assumed the Redfield name was cursed, but unrequited crushes, running late for class, and speeding tickets didn't quite hold a candle to this.





	1. Chapter 1

" _Hey, Claire...it's Chris. I, uh, don't really know how to say this but...no matter what you see on the news, don't come to Raccoon. I promise I'm alright and will continue to be alright no matter what you may see or hear. I swear I'll explain everything later, just...don't come. Please. Everything will be alright, just wait for me to come to you. Talk to you later and, uh...love you."_

She had listened to the recording about a hundred and ten times, an ample amount of plays to allow her to memorize even the most minute inflections in his voice and play it over in her head even now as she sped down the highway. Claire assumed Chris must have lost his mind to leave such a cryptic message behind in the wake of his sudden absence and genuinely expect her to  _not_  react in some way.

Though they were siblings by blood, Chris and Claire shared a closer relationship than most. Their parents had passed away early on in Claire's childhood and Chris, despite being eleven years old, had taken the initiative to function as a makeshift parent in their stead. It wasn't a role that he managed flawlessly, but Claire admired him for it. She revered him in many ways despite his faults-namely his  _temper_ -but she could  _not_  understand why he had made the decision to push her away from...whatever was going on.

With a sigh, she leaned back into the worn seat of the old pick-up truck and muted the radio. She was coming within the city limits now and was more than eager to finally walk around again after spending the past three hours driving. Chris would be pissed, for sure, but she figured that his ire wouldn't be able to withstand the insurmountable batting of his baby sister's eyelashes.

At least, that's what she hoped as she passed the obnoxious welcome sign, signaling that she was officially in Raccoon City.

The night was particularly dark given the storm clouds that had rolled in and Claire found herself hovered close to the steering wheel, squinting to try to make out the details of the road once the sudden rain had started. She had been to Raccoon City a few times, but her inability to make out the finer details of landmarks in the rain rendered her weak sense of direction useless.

The red glow of the traffic light bathed everything within the cabin of the truck in a sinister glow. With the reflection of the red light mirrored in the droplets of rain that had collected on the windshield, Claire found the challenge of discerning her surroundings even more difficult.

The light shifted to green and she let off the brake to roll through the intersection, but the whine of an engine in the distance caught her by surprise. The very second she managed to slam on the brakes once more, the entire truck shook as she was t-boned in the side.

The smash of glass and smell of smoke assaulted her senses and she felt the vehicle slide across the pavement despite her frantic pump of the brakes. The repeated thumping of her head against the driver's side window coupled with the sudden surge of adrenaline made it difficult to process what had happened in the moment. With a groan, she opened her eyes to find the windshield splintered in a spidery pattern, the once illuminated dashboard display now dark.

Her head was pounding as her hand fumbled against the door panel in search of the lever. Claire opened her eyes once more, vision blurred, and she let out a soft whine of discomfort as a wave of nausea washed over her.

Somehow, in her groping, she had managed to locate the door lever and yanked on it, causing the door to slide open. Claire, unaware that she had been leaning against the door for leverage, tumbled out with it and fell onto the pavement in a crumpled heap.

The soft pad of her palm burned where it had caught the asphalt and she let out a hiss, hip aching and head pounding. Judging by the warmth of the wetness that trickled down the side of her forehead, she assumed she had broken skin in some unfavorable place.

Claire groaned as she rolled onto her belly and attempted to lift herself off the ground, but the effort was fruitless. Squinting, she was able to discern  _something_  through the smoke and the rain, a smashed up hunk of metal that was once a motorcycle as far as she could tell.

Her eyes widened at the discovery and she whipped her head around in search of the driver, the movement too quick and resulting in a head rush. She moaned and pressed her bleeding palm to her forehead as she clenched her eyes shut to will the world to stop  _spinning_ so damn fast.

It had all happened so quickly that Claire wasn't sure who was at fault. She was certain that she had checked for oncoming traffic before moving through the light, but the poor weather and foggy mind made her doubt her recollection of events.

She rolled onto her side, a hand braced against the side of her chest to alleviate the sudden stitch that had formed. Claire squinted again as she stared into the grass along the side of the highway and, in the poor lighting, she was able to make out the dark silhouette of a man lying in an unmoving heap in the grass.

Claire felt her heart accelerate. Was he... _dead_?

She looked back at the wreckage despite the aching in her neck. No, she wasn't a medic, but, based on the scene, the chances of his survival seemed slim.

_Dead men tell no tales._ She recalled Chris's advice during his lectures on home invasions and self-defense, but it didn't seem applicable in this situation. She didn't know what had happened, but she  _swore_  she had checked. The wreckage would support it.

"Hey!  _Hey!_ Are you alright?!"

She winced at the sound of a man's voice, each syllable that he uttered seemingly splicing through her skull like a spear. When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring into what she assumed were blue eyes, the rest of him a blur as a result of her apparent head injury.

"Uh, yeah…" She managed to grit out, palm once again pressed to her temple. "I mean...I  _think_ …"

"You don't look so good."

His voice was softer this time, less panicked, and, were his words not so ominous, it might have calmed her in some way.

She felt his fingertips brush back the wet strands of hair that clung to her face and heard the sharp intake of air that resulted when he discovered what lay beneath.

"It probably looks worse than it is from the rain, but...we definitely need to get you to a hospital."

Claire shook her head at the suggestion and she heard his sigh.

He stood and surveyed the area, walking the perimeter around the vehicles slowly. She heard the sturdy stepping of his boots and, based on the audible gasp he let out, she assumed he noticed the body in the grass.

She heard him sprint, shoes squelching against the wet placement, and she saw his blurred figure kneel beside the man. Claire attempted to bring herself upward and stand, making it to one knee before stumbling forward again.

"I...he  _hit_  me. I didn't see him coming and…" She spluttered, words failing her. "Is he... _dead_?"

"It's okay," He sounded confident, almost as if simply saying it would make it true, "I'm a cop. I can help."

Claire's vision had corrected slightly, permitting her to make out the angles of his face and the fuzzy outline of R.P.D. emblazoned across his chest. Whether the fact that he was a cop was a blessing or a curse, she wasn't sure.

"Raccoon Police?" She asked and he made an affirmative sound that was accompanied by a nod of his head.

"Oh, thank  _god_."

The tension in her shoulders dissipated and she felt as though a weight had been lifted off of her chest. Without a shadow of a doubt in her mind, she believed that it was, in fact, a blessing to know that the man served in the same precinct as her older brother.

"Look, my brother...he's S.T.A.R.S." She paused for a moment, winded by the pounding in her head.

"Redfield." Claire continued, elaborating further, " _Chris_  Redfield. Do you know him?"

As the image of him fused together, she realized he was roughly the same age as her. He seemed almost too young to be a cop,  _certainly_ too young for S.T.A.R.S., and it made something in her gut sink.

"Ah, no…" He admitted, a sheepish look on his face. "But I know  _of_  S.T.A.R.S."

"Can you, like...call him or something?"

He paused for a moment, studying her face in the rain before looking back at the body in the grass. With a heavy-hearted sigh, he rose to his feet and offered a hand to assist her to her own.

"Well, we've got a pretty serious accident here, so I'm going to have to call it in."

When her hand slid into his, she was surprised by the warmth that radiated from his skin despite the September rain.

"Come on," he insisted, leaning forward to wrap his free arm around her shoulders to help hoist her upwards, "We need to get out of the rain."

Claire swallowed the whimper that threatened to surface as she wobbled on her feet despite his aid, a bout of nausea blindsiding her like a slap to the face. She took in slow, ragged breaths, attempting to focus on anything  _but_  vomiting on the guy beside her.

He helped her shuffle to his car and assisted her to the passenger seat where she sat sideways, legs extended outside the door. She felt him settle into the seat beside her and click on his radio, the static sound of feedback and patter of rain occupying the silence between them.

"This is Badge 422 calling in to report a 10-50. 10-52 requested."

Claire rolled her eyes. Hadn't she told him that her brother was a cop? She didn't  _need_  an ambulance, nor did she want one.

"Look, I just want to find my brother and get out of here."

He received no radio response and glossed over her comment to ask, "Command, do you copy?"

Nothing.

"What the hell…" There was a hint of panic in his voice, a slight waver to his words, and Claire, too, had an ominous feeling come over her.

Off the side of the highway, she saw the hunched-over silhouette of a man, blurred by both the rain and her concussion alike. She squinted again, trying to make out his lines beyond the downpour, but to no avail.

"Hey, uh...Officer?" She reached behind her to catch his sleeve, giving it a tug.

The unnatural twist of his neck was the first clue that something was amiss. Though the man's back faced them, his  _head_  did too, twisted on his neck to reveal two thirds of his profile. He quickly reached over to grab the handle mounted on the passenger side door and commanded Claire to pull herself into the car.

As soon as she did, he slammed her door shut and exited the vehicle, leaning in the open door to order, "Don't leave the car."

Claire gave him a sideways look, but he didn't acknowledge it and instead shut the door. With a huff, she twisted in her seat to rest her cheek on the headrest as she watched him through the window.

The silhouette staggered, jerking unnaturally as it moved, and she wondered if it was the man who had hit her, but it seemed impossible by all accounts. The cop's lack of urgency upon assessing the man was damning evidence of his likely deceased state.

She reached forward to wipe away the fog that had ghosted over the window with the side of her hand, attempting to get a better view, and she gasped in horror.

Though it was a blur, she could tell the side of the man's face was reduced to nothing but gore, sinews of tissue dangling from the side of his head. The police officer had one hand poised in front of him, gesturing the man to stop, with his other curved around the grip of his handgun.

She watched the man lurch forward into a lunge and she flinched, drawing back slightly at the sound of three shots being let off in succession. Claire watched the figure fall back to the ground with ramrod straight posture.

The cop scrambled into the car, breathing ragged and pistol thrown onto the dashboard. Claire raised a curious eyebrow, but said nothing. Yeah, maybe she wasn't a cop, but she was Chris's  _sister_ , and he had taught her a thing or two about safety. This guy had to have been a rookie at best.

"You, uh...okay?" She asked, tentatively resting a hand on his shoulder and giving it an awkward pat.

Claire felt him tremble beneath her touch, but said nothing.

"I...don't know  _what_  that was." He stammered, "It was like…"

He shook his head, wet strands of blonde hair falling into his eyes.

"Like a zombie?" Claire teased, arms stretched out in front of her as she mimicked its movements as best she could from her seat.

"Yeah."

The lack of playfulness in his voice was concerning.

"Come on, officer. Maybe he's just a junkie with meth-induced superpowers. It would explain why he hit me."

When she turned back to the window to peer out at the body, she let out a loud shriek of surprise.

The man was once again ambulatory, hovering at her window with his hands pressed against the glass. Blood dripped down his chin, mixed with rain and saliva, and splattered against the window as he gnashed his broken teeth at her. The skin of the side of his face had been wiped clean from the viscera that lay beneath, the side of his skull shattered and openly flailing with the movements of his jaw.

"Holy  _shit!_ "

The engine roared to life and the officer frantically reached over her, yanking her seatbelt into place before slamming on the gas. The back of her head collided with the headrest and she hissed, one hand clenching the handle on the door for leverage as he sped away.

"So, uh, does Raccoon City normally harbor a zombie population?" She joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It seemed her humor was lost on him as he shook his head, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles blanched white.

"I don't know  _what_  that was, but I have to report it immediately."

Claire leaned her temple against the cool glass of the window.

"Well, officer…"

He interrupted her, eyes briefly straying from the road to flash her a smile with his introduction.

"Leon."

She hadn't heard of him from Chris, but that didn't mean much. If she didn't know any better, she would have assumed that Barry and Jill comprised the remainder of the entire staff at the RPD.

Regardless, she reciprocated his introduction by offering her name, and before she realized someone had stepped into the road in front of them, the shatter of the windshield and thump of a body against the hood of the cruiser caused her to jolt forward, seatbelt catching hard against her sternum.

Leon slammed on the brakes and looked back over his shoulder as Claire watched the pedestrian slowly rise from the ground, rolling on an ankle and stumbling forward.

The anomalous jerk of its head upwards and the loll of its shoulders were characteristic enough - it was another one of those...things.

Claire didn't know what the hell was going on in Raccoon City, but she was  _positive_  that she would beat Chris's ass for not evacuating sooner the very moment she found him.


	2. Chapter 2

“What the hell…”

They stood outside the walls of the Raccoon Police Department as the rain continued to pour from the ominously black sky. Leon's hands were wrapped around the bars of the sturdy iron gate and he gave it another rough shake for good measure, desperately hoping that the bruteness of the action would somehow release the heavy chains that held it closed.

Claire pressed a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the rain as she looked up to survey the height of the wall. Yeah, it was tall, but she had definitely vaulted over worse in her life.

“If you lift me, I can jump it.”

She worded it as a suggestion, but it came off as a command to which Leon balked.

“Are you crazy?” He hissed, hand coming up to encircle her upper arm. “You have a concussion!”

Claire had grown accustomed to the pounding in her head and the way the earth felt like rolling water beneath her feet. Sure, her perception was a little off, but the zombie apocalypse didn’t seem particularly forgiving to those in need of rest. Claire was not only a Redfield, but was also raised by one of the most elite members of S.T.A.R.S. She could absolutely handle running around with a concussion.

“Have _you_ ever had a concussion?” She asked, not necessarily curious, but looking to prove a point.

Leon averted his gaze, a tinge of pink surfacing on his cheeks.

“Well, no, but…”

“So what do you know about how it feels?”

Claire crossed her arms over her chest, unable to fight off the smirk that made its way onto her face. Leon was probably the most pure guy she had ever met to date, but, she had to admit, there was something strangely endearing about it.

“Trust me,” She urged, “I’m going to be fine. Just help me get over and I’ll figure out how to let you in.”

He surrendered with a sigh, unable to construct a valid argument. Kneeling beside the wall, he interlaced his fingers together, providing a step for her with his upturned palms.

“If anything happens to you, I w--”

“ _Nothing_ is going to happen to me.” She insisted as she stepped into his open hands.

He lifted her without struggle, bringing her to the top of the wall, and she wasted no time in hoisting herself over it. Claire stumbled with her landing, having misjudged the distance between the wall and the ground with her skewed perception.

She returned to the gate and smiled brightly, arms outstretched at her sides as she gave a small spin.

“See? Nothing is broken."

She wasn't going to admit that the movement made her nauseated and she definitely wasn't going to tell him about her near-fall.

“I'll go inside and get someone to let you in,” She gestured towards the front of the station, “Just...please be careful, Leon, okay?”

Leon laughed good-naturedly and nodded.

“Don't worry about me, Claire. We're both gonna make it out of this.”

She hesitated to study his face and the way he watched her, his blue eyes soft with concern. The rain that coated his skin caught the light of the sconces posted outside the station, emphasizing the long lines of his jaw and the dimple in his chin. He was easy on the eyes, for sure. Maybe, under other circumstances, she would have found him cute.

If there weren't a bunch of zombies on the prowl, she might have found the self-confidence to flirt with him. Instead, she gave him an awkward wave before turning on her heel and entering the station. Still, she couldn't cast away the wriggling, anxious feeling in her gut, but worrying about his safety wouldn't do anything to change their circumstances.

_Out of sight, out of mind._

At least, that's the lie she tried to convince herself with as the cool air of the police station licked at her damp skin, causing goosebumps to rise along her flesh.

Even now, in adulthood, the sheer size of the lobby was intimidating. As a teenager, she had stopped by more than a few times in order to pester Chris for gas money or other frivolous favors, but it somehow didn't make the room seem any less unfamiliar. Maybe it was the overwhelming emptiness of it that made it seem so foreign, the lack of typical bustle and shuffling of papers.

“Hello?” She called out, hesitating at the doorway to wring the water out if her heavy ponytail.

Taking a step forward, she yelled out, “Is anyone here? _Hello_?”

The only answer she received was that of silence.

A sense of dread came over her as she dearly hoped that the absence of law enforcement was due to the fact that they were successfully combating the zombie resistance, rather than having succumbed to it.

The echo of the soles of her boots striking the polished stairs didn’t seem like her own as she ascended to the second floor.

“Hello?!”

It came as a shout this time, almost desperate.

“Girl, if you don't keep it quiet, you're going to wake the _actual_ dead with all that hollering.”

Claire placed her hands on the nearby bannister and peered down to the ground floor to find a man in uniform staring up at her.

“Oh my god, _Kevin_?”

She wasted no time in bolting down the stairs to greet him, a sense of relief having come over her at the familiar sight of him. He narrowed his eyes, giving her a skeptical look, one that she couldn't quite discern the meaning of.

“Claire, what the _hell_ are you doing in Raccoon?”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned forward to scrutinize her with a hard glare, one that left her feeling self-conscious.

“Is that any of your business?” She answered flippantly, crossing her own arms in kind.

Kevin's serious expression softened and he broke into a chuckle, bringing up a hand to ruffle her damp hair.

“Still as feisty as ever, I see.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but didn't hold back her smile. Chris and Kevin had been proclaimed “work rivals” for as long as she could remember, forcing a competition into just about everything they did. She'd known him for a while and was used to subjecting him to the same guilt trips she often forced Chris to endure.

“Yeah, yeah, such is the way of a Redfield,” She waved her hand as if to shoo the topic away, “But anyway, where's Chris?”

Kevin raised an eyebrow.

“Do you have any idea what's going on in Ra--”

“Yep, zombies...hence why I came to get Chris.”

She didn't miss a beat and he burst into boisterous laughter.

“You think Chris Redfield needs help from his kid sister?”

Claire glowered at him and he held up a hand in a call for peace.

“No offense, but this is way more serious than you realize, Claire. You're in over your head--hell, we _all_ are. The best thing you can do is sit tight and wait for Chris to come back.”

He pointed towards one of the benches nearby and Claire wondered if her coordination was decent enough to punch him in the mouth.

“With all due respect, officer,” She feigned the sweetness in her voice, “I've probably killed more zombies than you, so I think I can handle myself just fine.”

“Video games don't count, Claire.”

She had forgotten just how infuriatingly mouthy guy was. Clenching her fist as a means to relieve her ire, she took a deep breath.

“Actually, one of your cops came here with me, so you're welcome to go ask him all about my _real life_ kill count. He's waiting outside the front gate, so could you pretty please let him in?”

It was a bluff, but he didn't need to know that.

Kevin's stormy eyes caught hers and she found herself trapped in an intense staring contest with him, a battle of nerves that she made a point not to lose.

“ _My_ cop?” He finally asked, an amused smirk on his face.

“Yeah, he said his name was Leon.”

Claire glared at him pridefully at the mention of his name, feeling as though she had somehow forced him into a metaphorical checkmate.

He shook his head.

“Never heard of him.” He answered plainly.

Irritated, Claire shifted her weight on her feet and gestured towards the door.

“Well, he's waiting out there. If you don't mind, could you _pretty please_ let him in because, in case you forgot, there's a bunch of zombies on the loose and I’d hate to see his face get eaten.”

To her surprise, he sighed and pulled a handgun from his waist and held it out to her.

“Well?” He asked expectantly, giving her an annoyed look. “If you're gonna go hunt down Redfield, you're gonna need a gun.”

Claire's attention shifted from the gun to his face and then back to the weapon once more.

“Thanks.”

Her response was genuine as she took it from him, holding it upwards to familiarize herself with its weight. Though Chris had taught her how to shoot at a young age and often took her to the shooting range to keep her skills polished, she wasn't sure of what the gun was aside from some type of semi-automatic.

She pulled back on the slide, testing her strength, and found it comfortingly simple to maneuver.

“He went back into the city with Valentine to radio for help.”

Kevin hesitated and kicked at the tile below them.

“But I'm not gonna let you go back through the city. It's way too damn dangerous and I'm not about to survive zombies just to die at the hands of your brother for letting you be a reckless teenager.”

Claire opened her mouth to retort, but he continued before she could manage to speak.

“There's a way into the sewers from the police station. It's the safest bet.” He pointed towards the eastern side of the lobby. “Elliot’s posted out in the east office to keep the area secure. He can help you find the way.”

Kevin meandered towards the front of the station, hands in his pockets. As he ascended the small set of stairs, he looked back at her over his shoulder.

“Be careful, Claire. There are worse things than zombies around here.”

She didn't take the time to mull over his warning, but she wasn't sure if that was because she was in a hurry or due to fear of finding out exactly what he meant. The prospect of _zombies_ being reality was challenging enough for her to comprehend despite seeing them with her very own eyes and she was reluctant to know what her imagination could invent with the inspiration of his words.

The emergency shutter intended to close off entrance to the east wing was halfway closed, appearing to have been haphazardly stopped during the midst of its descent. Claire hunched over in order to duck her head beneath it and peer down into the hallway to find it shrouded in darkness, save the fluorescent glow of the face of the vending machines in the distance.

She wrapped her hand more tightly around the grip of the handgun Kevin had lent her and sidled beneath the shutter. With a light step, she crept down the length of the hallway to the door leading to the east office, careful not to disturb whatever may be looming at the unforeseen end of the hallway.

Admittedly, she didn't know Elliott, but she assumed that he was a police officer and cops have guns, _right_? Surely he would have put down anything that managed to make its way into the east wing.

Claire didn't realize she was holding her breath as she reached for the doorknob ahead. She could hear blood loudly rushing in her ears, driven by the powerful, adrenaline-fueled thumping of her heart. The moment her hand closed around the cool metal of the doorknob, she quickly jerked back as though the contact had singed her skin.

Instead, she leaned forward to press her ear flat against the surface of the door and strained to make out the sound of anything at all. Following one final observation of the hall ahead, Claire felt confident enough to close her eyes, depriving herself of sight in order to potentially bolster her hearing.

And there it was - a faint rattle that occasionally came accompanied by a thump.

Claire pulled away from the door, lower lip caught between her teeth in a nervous expression. The sound could have been produced by a million things, really. Maybe it was a faulty ceiling fan or an officer eagerly counting out his change to hit up the vending machine nearby.

Or maybe it was one of those...monsters.

Though she had no audience, Claire vigorously shook her head in opposition as though the movement would thrust the dark thought from the confines of her head. It was probably nothing, but, in the off chance that it _was_ a zombie...so _what_?

Yeah, she could handle a zombie. She was Claire fucking Redfield after all, the baby sister of shit kicker Chris Redfield, the hotshot who Irons had to _plead_ to join S.T.A.R.S.

Holding the gun close to her chest, Claire inhaled sharply before pushing open the door to the east office. Swiftly, she drew the gun to an offensive position, muzzle pointed at a thankfully empty office room.

Claire let out a sigh of relief, but her reprieve was short-lived. The noise from before came thundering, the rattling and pounding faster this time, loud enough to make her leap in surprise.

She whipped her head to the side so quickly that she had to pause, a palm pressed to her temple as she mentally willed the world to stop swimming.

Once her vision fused back to normal, she found herself staring face-to-face with Leon as he stood on the opposite side of the window, wedged between bushes and glass.

“Oh my god, Leon!” She laid her hand over her heart in an attempt to quell its rapid racing as she moved into the smaller office in order to open the window.

With some struggle, she managed to undo the safety latch to lift the lower pane away and Claire squatted to the level of the opening to chide him.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

Leon ducked into the opening of the window, the flush of his cheeks not unnoticed by her. Once he stepped through, he slammed the window closed and latched it shut, more than eager to be safely confined within the walls of the station.

“Sorry about that.” He spoke softly, voice so sincere that Claire truly believed that his apology was genuine.

In their now close proximity, Claire was finally able to make out the dark smattering of fluid sprayed across the front of his police vest. Leon caught her stare and waved his hand to discourage any questions.

“It's not mine.” He spoke simply and Claire didn't bother to ask him to elaborate.

“I got a lead on my brother.” She shifted the subject quickly, voice quivering despite its cheery tone. “I ran into a cop I know and he said Chris went out to the radio tower with his partner to send out a distress call.”

“That’s...good news.” Leon responded. “Is he coming back to the station?”

Claire shrugged.

“I’m not going to wait to find out. I have to find him and help.”

Leon’s eyebrows shot upwards, disappearing behind the fringe of his bangs.

“Claire, you can’t be serious! It’s a mess out there. There’s a whole horde of them gathered around the front gate. It…” He paused, eyes closed as he gathered his thoughts, “It would be a suicide mission. Trust me.”

Annoyed, Claire crossed her arms over her chest, hip cocked to one side as she took on a defensive stance. Who gave all of these men the authority to tell her what to do? She was very well aware of what she was capable of and she knew that Chris would do the same for her, were their roles reversed. Claire was determined to see it through.

“Kevin told me there’s an officer around here who knows how to get to the sewers.”

She pulled her lips into a pout and glared at him before adding, “I know I’m a _woman_ and all, but, trust me...I’m not stupid.”

Leon threw his hands into the air in surrender as he vehemently shook his head, “Oh god, Claire, no...I didn’t mean it because you’re a woman! I would have said it to anyone.”

He floundered for words and Claire held in her laugh. It was _kind of_ cute. Or, rather, would have been cute were she paying attention to such things, but she totally wasn’t. This was life or death and all that.

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Are you going to help me find Elliot or not?”

Leon appeared startled.  
  
“Elliot?” He asked.

“Yeah, he’s the officer Kevin told me about. He can help us get into the sewers.”

Leon frowned, a hand idly coming up to trace the pattern of blood on the front of his vest.

“Claire, this blood is Elliot’s. He...he’s one of _them_.”

Claire felt her heart skip a beat.

“Well...that’s gonna make our lives a little difficult, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the uncharacteristically late updates this month. April became strangely busy for me, but I should be back in the action now. Thanks so much to **Xaori** for being my personal cheerleader, putting up with my stupid ideas, and talking me out of making horrible decisions with my writing. Read her stuff because her genius is what keeps me in check, so you know her works are worth it.
> 
> Regardless of what she says, I know you all secretly want me to replace Mr. X with an oversized Sherry wielding an infinite rocket launcher and have her face off against RE5 Chris at the end of all this.


	3. Chapter 3

Claire sat on the edge of the desk that was stationed in the front of the lobby, legs dangling freely in the air as she watched Leon play with a set of wires on the opposite wall. The emergency shutter to the west side of the precinct had been lowered to the ground and was far too heavy for either of them to lift manually. Leon was certain that he could disarm it by snipping wires in the electrical box nearby, but she wasn't terribly confident about his abilities.

“Are you sure you don't want me to look at it?” She asked, head tilted to the side in curiosity.

Leon nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he gingerly picked at the wires contained within the box. Claire sighed and allowed her head to lazily loll back on her shoulders, giving her ample view of the equally uninteresting ceiling above.

“Have you ever broken into anything before?” She asked despite already knowing the answer.

“No…”

She smiled to herself, amused by his predictability in spite of having only known him for a few hours. His innocence was strangely endearing and she found herself tempted to tease him whenever the chance arose.

“Wow, I never would have guessed.”

He looked over his shoulder to cast her an annoyed look. In response, she only offered him a cheery smile and a wink before he returned to his work. With his face out of her line of sight, he smiled to himself and shook his head. Claire was interesting, to say the least, and he couldn't deny his appreciation for her carefree nature.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he snipped a wire.

Claire was taken back by the question, a little touched. Truth be told, she felt like freezer burnt hell half-warmed in a cheap cafeteria microwave that hadn't been cleaned for months. Aside from the unpleasantly fuzzy feeling in her head, her neck was throbbing and her side was aching. She guessed she had fractured a rib, given the sharp, stabbing pain that came with any particularly deep breath that she took.

“I'm fine.” She lied, not keen on the idea of working him up into a tizzy about her health.

With a swift flick of his wrist, he drove the tip of her knife through another wire and was rewarded with the groan of mechanical parts as the shutter retracted.

“Huh, I did it.”

His voice was soft with wonder as though he had somehow surprised himself. Claire held in a laugh at his reaction, pressing her fingertips against her lips to hide her smile. How was it possible for a grown man to be so adorable?

Coming up from behind him, she clapped a hand on his shoulder in a celebratory gesture as she cheered, “Nice work, officer!”  
  
Leon questioned the sincerity of her comment, but said nothing aloud. Instead, he drew his pistol and kept the barrel pointed towards the ground as he entered the small reception area, taking in his surroundings. There was nothing of interest and he hesitated by the door leading to the main hallway, listening to the sound of the rain.

“I don't know what's up ahead.” He said, voice soft as he turned to Claire.

He lifted his hands to allow them to rest on her upper arms and his eyes met hers, face twisted into a worried expression. Leon held her stare for a moment and Claire began to feel uncomfortable, shifting nervously on her feet. She could only imagine how terrible she looked and to be under his scrutiny was perhaps one of the most anxiety-inducing scenarios she had ever faced.

“I want you to wait here.” Leon spoke gently and pointed towards a seat nearby. “I'll secure the area and come back for you.”

What the hell was up with that guy? Did he truly find her so incompetent? Maybe she should find one of those fucks and kill it in front of him to prove a point.

“Look, Leon...I appreciate it, but I can handle myself.” She insisted, frustrated with his apparent lack of faith in her abilities.

Leon smiled and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Claire, it's not a question of how capable you are. When I became a cop, I took an oath to protect people and I don't think I could ever sleep again at night if something terrible happened to you because of me.”

She found it difficult to swallow on account of the butterflies that had taken flight in her chest. Rendered speechless, Claire averted her gaze towards the floor and nodded her head slowly.

“Alright, but if anything happens to _you_ …” She gave him a stern look, “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep at night either.”

If he wasn’t confident in his own abilities, Claire never would have known. Leon winked at her before heading through the door, maneuvering it as silently as possible before gently pulling it closed behind him.

Claire moved to sit on one of the benches nearby, body stiff and aching. As time went by, she became more privy to additional injuries that she had sustained in the accident, most of which occurring in places she wasn’t even aware existed. Stretched out on the surface of the bench, she allowed herself to close her eyes and revel in the much needed rest.

She hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but she found herself startling back to wakefulness at the harsh slam of a door being closed. Claire groaned as a wave of dizziness came over her as a result of the speed with which she sat up and she swung her legs back over the side of the bench in order to sit in an upright position.

How long had she been asleep? She couldn’t tell, but Leon hadn’t yet returned, so it must not have been long.

Or...maybe it had and he had been met with a terrible fate.

_No_ , she told herself, _Leon is fine. He knows how to use his gun well and..._

The loud stomping of feet interrupted her thoughts and she turned her head to the right in order to peer out into the main lobby and all but threw herself into cardiac arrest at the sight that greeted her. Claire had no idea what the fuck it was, but it _appeared_ as though an oversized, horribly disfigured, trench coat-clad mannequin was angrily making its way towards her with a purpose she didn’t particularly want to discover the intentions of.

Horrified, she leapt up off the seat, aiming the gun with shaky hands. It was heavier than the revolver Chris had left her with and she took a moment to steady her wrist to accommodate the weight, readying herself to fire.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot!”

She had put as much venom into her words as she could, but her pursuer took no heed of her warning. Instead, it continued to march towards her, hands balled into tight fists. Finding no other option, she began to fire, pulling the trigger multiple times in quick succession until she heard the telltale _click_ of an empty magazine.

The creature was completely unresponsive to the bullets she had sprayed into its chest and neck. It was closing in on her with a raised arm that it had reeled back in preparation to strike and Claire stumbled backwards, falling onto her ass abruptly. Rolling forward, she attempted to somersault between its legs as a means to escape.

She hadn’t realized it had drawn back a leg to kick her until its steel-toed boot crushed against her ribs, causing her to fly backwards and collide into the wall. With a hiss of pain, she pressed a palm against her side to brace her chest as she took in a deep breath. Even through the ribbed fabric of her tank top, she could feel bone shift unnaturally upon inspiration, and a sense of dread came over her.

She was going to die here, wasn’t she? _Fuck_.

Swallowing hard, she let out a soft whimper and rose as best she could, hunched over as she stumbled for the door Leon had passed through. She swung it open ungracefully, causing the doorknob to loudly collide against the wall and she broke into a sprint, splintered ribs be damned.

Claire could hear the forceful stomping of the creature in tow, but did not dare to look behind. She only persisted, trying to twist doorknobs as she traveled along the length of the hallway, but found them to be locked. As she took a sharp turn, she heard glass shatter, and she peered over her shoulder in time to see a zombie come crashing through the window, falling unceremoniously onto the floor.

In a move of desperation, she took in a deep breath in order to scream out, “ _LEON_!”

A sob followed as a result of the pain that ripped through her and she found a set of double doors, bursting through them with the little strength that she could muster. The adjacent door was bolted shut and she weaved her way around the desks that littered the room, searching for _anything_ at all.

The footsteps grew closer and she let out an anguished cry, burying her face in her hands in an exasperated gesture. Just as she did, she caught a glimpse of a window in her periphery, placed high up on the wall.

She vaulted towards the window and threw herself through it, screaming in agony as she landed on her knees, skin already beginning to bruise as it came into contact with the tile flooring. The exposed skin of her upper arms burned and she knew she had cut herself on the glass, but there was no time to tend to it. Looking up, Claire found herself in another hallway, one that seemed vaguely familiar this time. There had to be a staircase nearby, one that led to Chris’s office…

Using the wall to lift herself from the floor, she limped her way around the corner and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the staircase. Chris’s office was on the second floor and maybe, just _maybe_ one of the S.T.A.R.S. was inside.

God, she hoped it would be Rebecca, given the extensive medical training the girl had undergone.

Just as she reached the bannister in order to ascend the stairs, she heard another door slam. Abandoning her attempt to make it to the S.T.A.R.S. office, she darted towards the nearby door, closing it slowly in order to keep ruckus to a minimum.

The room was enveloped in darkness as soon as she closed the door and Claire pressed her hands to her mouth as if to suppress the sound of her breathing. She heard the footfalls of someone descending the stairs and she began to pace backwards until she collided with the sharp corner of a desk. Whimpering quietly, she stared hard at the strip of light filtering in from beneath the door.

A break in the lighting came and she closed her eyes tightly, fumbling behind herself in the darkness to ensure the space was empty. She stepped backwards once more, continuing until her shoulder blades came into contact with the wall.

The door opened slowly, allowing light to spill in, and Claire let out a strangled sob - not one of torment, but of relief this time at the sight of Leon standing in the doorway.

Leon squinted, stepping into the room as recognition came over his face. In the poor lighting, he couldn’t make out the details of her, but the silhouette was faintly familiar.

“Claire?” He asked softly, leaving the door ajar as he moved closer.

“Oh god, Leon, close the door!” Her voice quivered with fear and he complied despite his confusion.

The room was once again shrouded in darkness and he stood there for a moment, listening to her ragged breathing and the loud _bang_ of a door being flung closed in the distance.

“Is someone else…?” He asked, hand instinctively moving towards his gun.

Claire choked down a snivel and made a quiet sound in her throat.

“It...it’s…” She faltered, “I don’t know what it is.”

She felt Leon’s hand on her wrist and he held it gently, enclosing it with his fingers. With a careful pull, he led her further into the room and flicked on a light, bathing their surroundings in a dull red glow. The harsh color apparently didn’t do her any favors and she watched Leon’s eyes widen at the sight of her.

“Jesus, Claire, what happened?”

Whether it was due to embarrassment or injuries, she didn’t know, but a bout of nausea came crashing down on her so brusquely that she found herself unable to combat it. Feeling bile rise in her throat, she leaned over the edge of the sink nearby and vomited roughly, shoulders jerking violently with the action.

With a groan, she pressed a palm to her forehead to brush strands of hair away from her face. The back of her throat burned and the foul taste in her mouth nearly inspired her to vomit once more, though the lack of contents in her stomach seemingly made it impossible. Claire dry-heaved as Leon came close, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

“That... _thing_ out there.” She wiped the saliva from the corner of her mouth as she turned to face him, doing her best to look anything but repulsive.

“It’s _huge_. It’s like a man turned to stone or something, I don’t know.”

Claire let out a short, incredulous laugh before continuing.

“I shot it...I shot it _so_ many times, but it didn’t even flinch. It…” She pressed her palm to her side and winced, “It kicked the shit out of me, but I managed to get away.”

Leon stood beside her in stunned silence as he attempted to process what she was saying.

“I thought I was going to die.” She said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “And, honestly, I’m still not completely sure that I’m not going to.”

She looked up at him, eyes hot and burning. The tears in her eyes blurred her vision and caused the details of his face to bleed together, but, all things considered, she wasn’t sure that she _wanted_ to see the expression on his reaction. Her cheeks were hot with shame and she clenched her eyes closed, causing a tear to spill over and run down the side of her face.

“Claire.”

His voice was tender, soothing in a way, but she couldn’t force herself to look at him. Kevin was right - she was just Chris’s fucking _kid_ sister, a goddamn idiot for thinking she could last in the fucking zombie apocalypse. Maybe hiding _was_ the best option.

Claire felt his skin against her face, gloves tossed aside as he cradled her jaw in his hands. His skin was warm, _impossibly_ so, and unexpectedly soft as he grazed the pad of his thumb along the curve of her cheek. Involuntarily, she found herself leaning into his touch, the contact bringing her frazzled mind to a much needed standstill.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. While it probably wasn’t kind to her, the light highlighted him in all the right ways, casting shadows that emphasized the cut of his cheeks and the dimple in his chin. Her lips parted slightly and she held his gaze, her bright blue eyes locked with his pale ones, and she felt her heart skip a beat.

Was it really fair for a man to be so...pretty?

She watched his attention drift to her lips and took in a sharp breath, holding it in anticipation. Her eyes closed once more on their own accord and she felt his hot, moist breath fanning out across her face. The warmth of his skin grew hotter as he drew closer to her, but it suddenly faded away.

He let go of her face and stepped back, tearing her back to reality. She watched him shake his head and look away as he muttered, “God, Claire, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head and forced a smile.

There was no uncertainty about it any longer - Claire could have crawled into a hole and died that very moment.

Maybe she should have let that fucker outside finish the job after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support so far! :') I love and appreciate you all so much.


	4. Chapter 4

They remained there for a while, huddled up against the back wall of the dark room as they listened to the thundering of footsteps from the floor above. The monster Claire had the misfortune of discovering was terrifyingly sentient, slamming doors as it systematically searched the precinct, and she could only assume it was on the hunt for _her._ She hoped that she was simply overreacting as she closed her eyes, listening to its heavy stomping as it ascended the staircase.

“Once it passes through, we can make our way to the S.T.A.R.S. office.” Leon whispered.

She nodded in the darkness despite his inability to see her. What she was truly hoping to find up there, she wasn't sure. Kevin had told her that Chris left the station and, although he had no reason to lie, a small part of her desperately wished she'd somehow find him there. Even in the worst case scenario, the more likely one in which Chris _wasn't_ casually waiting for her, she assumed they would at least find medical supplies.

Claire was seated on the floor, knees bent with her elbows resting on top of them. Overwhelmed, she let out a heavy sigh and buried her face in her hands, a movement Leon felt on account of their shoulders being in contact with one another's. In response, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her opposite arm a reassuring rub.

“Don't worry, Claire. We're going to find your brother and get out of Raccoon City.”

Despite the conviction with which he spoke, she didn't necessarily believe him. She gave him a weak smile in the dark and nodded her head, not particularly keen on the idea of getting into a potential argument with him as a result of her negativity.

The monster's heavy footfalls eventually faded into a muted stomp, the slamming of doors muffled to such a low octave that they could hardly hear it. Leon helped her to her feet with a steady hand, stalling for a moment to ensure that she was stable on her feet while standing. Claire hissed and braced her side with an open palm, forcing herself to breathe slowly on account of the stabbing pain in her side.

“Claire?”

There he went again, talking with that soft voice that brought a flush to her cheeks and made her heart flutter into her throat.

“I'm fine, really.”

She wasn't.

Leon pulled the door ajar and pressed a gentle hand against her upper back as she moved through it, instinctively squinting as the fluorescent lights of the hallway assaulted her senses. With one hand on her side and the other tightly gripping her freshly reloaded handgun, she made her way to the first landing at an embarrassingly sluggish pace.

Biting her lower lip, she looked back at Leon, and he smiled encouragingly.

“Take your time. We're already halfway there.”

Just as she made her way to the next step, a loud beating echoed from the base of the stairs. She leaned over the bannister to peer back down to find a zombie angrily throwing itself at the window, desperate to make its way in.

Claire felt the familiar fist of fear close around her heart and she nearly coughed, suddenly short of breath. That _...thing_ was going to find them.

“Oh _fuck_ …”

She gripped the handrail tightly and attempted to shuffle up the stairs more swiftly, but her pace was unimpressive at best. The heavy stomping of footsteps grew louder, becoming increasingly more audible over the noise of the zombie attempting to break through.

Leon acted in instinct. Suddenly, she felt the length of his arm along the width of her back, the other coming behind her knees to force her legs into a bent position. He hoisted her up into his arms soundlessly and hurried up the stairs, the noise of his own footsteps almost masked entirely by the loud shatter of glass as the zombie tumbled through the window.

Claire felt as though she would vomit again - not out of pain or terror, but as a result of embarrassment this time. Leon must have thought she was the most useless companion.

They were in the S.T.A.R.S. office in no time and he quickly sat her in the nearest chair before moving to close the door behind them. Claire inhaled deeply and held her breath as she heard the groaning of the zombie below, followed by the crunching of glass beneath the other creature's feet.

Leon stood there, back to the door as he leaned against it, pistol in hand. His eyes were locked with Claire's and they remained in their respective positions, unmoving, barely breathing, frozen in place.

The footsteps came again, growing softer as though moving away from their direction. Another door slammed in the distance and Leon let out a quiet, nervous laugh of relief as Claire relaxed into the chair she had been dropped into.

Leon moved away from the door to approach the desk beside her. Spinning her chair in his direction, she turned to see him rummaging through a medical bag that had been hung beside it. She could only assume it was Rebecca's and, though the medic herself was absent, she was grateful for the fact that _something_ had managed to work in her favor that night.

She leaned back into the chair and allowed her head to loll back, eyes drifting closed as she took in a few short breaths. Though safety had not been an appropriate term to use in the scenario, it was the best descriptor she could think of to describe the way she felt in that moment-- _safe_ , if only for a moment.

When she opened her eyes once more, Leon had carefully arranged various items on the desk nearby. As he began to open packages, she lifted a hand to wave it in protest.

“I can do it.” She insisted and he gave her a pointed look.

“Claire, _please._  Let me.”

She was certain that the skin would melt off her face at this rate. Turning her attention towards the floor, she began to study an incredibly curious speck of lint that littered the carpet.

Claire let out a sharp hiss when he pressed a saturated pad of gauze to her forehead, the antiseptic cold and caustic. Leon gave her a sympathetic look and whispered an apology, leaning in close to gently blow at the stinging in an attempt to alleviate the burn.

She didn't think his technique was properly sterile, but she remained quiet. God, she could have crawled into a hole and died. Chris would have been so ashamed of her for being such a pussy.

_Oh, shut up. He would be doing the same thing._

Swallowing thickly, she closed her eyes and tried to direct her attention to something other than the warm, gentle press of his fingertips and the careful, concerned look of concentration that he wore. Why couldn't she have been stuck in the zombie apocalypse with some gross old dude? Why did it have to be _Leon_ , the police officer who really should have been a “cop” in a smutty calendar?

Not that she'd buy his calendar. No way.

“Claire.”

God, did he _know_ how to say anything else? Why did he have to say her name like that...all warm and stupid-like?

“Leon.”

She batted her eyelashes and smiled up at him, having missed whatever he had said during her...totally appropriate musings.

“Lift up your shirt.”

With her mouth agape, her mind struggled to replay what he had said. He _hadn't_ said that, right? Her imagination was being awfully creative - smutty calendars, stripping…

Leon probably looked nice under his clothes.

“Claire.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice and looked up at him.

“I'm not trying to be inappropriate, but I need to see. You don't have to take it off, just lift it up a little.”

Oh _fuck._  He _had_ said it after all.

It made sense, right? It made sense to let him see. She had been kicked by that asshole in the trench coat, not to mention the wreck she had been in. Basic first aid was probably part of his training. It was totally appropriate.

Totally.

Swallowing hard to drown the butterflies in her throat, she nodded and rose to stand on shaky legs. With the hem of her shirt firmly grasped between her fingers, she hesitated for a moment as she attempted to muster the courage to reveal herself to him.

_Stop being a pussy._

She closed her eyes as she peeled back her shirt, terrified to witness the expression on his face.

“Jesus, Claire…”

She cracked open an eye to look down at him. He was bent at the waist, leaning forward to scrutinize the damage. A careful hand rose once more to ghost his fingertips along the side of her ribs and it caused her to gasp, skin tender beneath his touch.

“Your, uh...ribs are broken, I think.”

Claire held in a laugh. She didn't need him to tell her that - the excruciating pain was proof enough.

She was unable to suppress the gasp that surfaced when she looked down at herself to see the massive stain of purple and red that had bloomed along her side and began to envelop the front of her chest like watercolors spilled on a canvas.

“Well, that's pretty gross.”

Leon gave her an incredulous look and she shrugged, quickly pulling her shirt back into place.

“Are you sure you're okay?” He asked, though it wasn't necessarily phrased as a question. Leon was pretty sure that she _wasn't_ okay.

“Yep, totally.” She lied. “It looks worse than it feels.”

Claire was screaming internally as she walked in a small circle, hoping the action would add truth to her words. Leon watched her skeptically, but didn't push it. Instead, he turned back towards the desk to pour the contents of a bottle into his palm.

“Well, a little acetaminophen won't hurt.” He offered it to her and she nearly snatched it from him, grimacing as she swallowed the pain reliever dry.

Desperate to shift the focus away from her, Claire cleared her throat quietly.

“So, um...did you meet any of the S.T.A.R.S.?” She asked, moving around the office to investigate what had been left behind.

“No…” His voice trailed off as though he were embarrassed, but he continued, “I know that they're really badass though, so I totally know where you get it from.”

Claire broke into a fit of giggles. Badass? _Her_? Was he patronizing her or just trying to make her feel better?

“Thanks I guess.”

It was all vaguely familiar. She had been there a few times to pester Chris, but it wasn't quite the way her memory had arranged it. She swore the desks were placed differently before. In fact...

Why were so many of them empty?

“Hey, um, did something happen to S.T.A.R.S?” She asked, taking a seat at Chris's desk.

“What do you mean?”

She frowned hard and turned to point at the photo on the wall, one that had both Alpha and Bravo team within the shot.

“There's, like...a lot of them, but most of these desks are empty.”

She frowned and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest in a pensive gesture.

“I don't see any of Joseph's stuff. He was on Alpha team with my brother.”

Leon had moved to stand behind the portrait and was shifting his gaze from it to the room.

“Yeah, you're right.” He shrugged. “Maybe they have two offices now or something.”

That made enough sense to her. Claire wrinkled her nose as she observed the mess atop Chris's desk and rolled forward in the chair to pull open the top drawer. She couldn't help but smirk upon discovering that it had been packed full of snacks.

She continued her snooping for a while until she came across a flash drive hidden in the bottom drawer. Curiously, she turned it over in her palm a few times before heading to the computer nearby.

“Are you snooping through your brother's things?” Leon asked, somewhat amused.

Claire rolled her eyes.

“He deserves it. Plus, it doesn't look like RPD property.”

She was annoyed to find it was password protected. If she was a meathead like Chris, what password would she use?

_Password?_ Nope.

_Bacon?_ Nope.

_Claire?_ Nah.

She looked back at his desk for inspiration and smirked.

_Valentine_? Bingo!

She clicked on the first file listed in the folder and rapidly scrolled through the document.

_Arklay, Umbrella, T-Virus…_

What the hell _was_ all of this?

“Hey, Leon…?”

She paused her hurried scrolling to skim over a random page that detailed...encounters with zombies? It was a formal report from July authored by...Jill, Chris's partner.

What the fuck was going on?

Leon had come to stand beside her in order to read over her shoulder and she pointed at the page incriminatingly.

“Leon, what the hell is this? Jill is my brother's partner. How did she…?”

She continued to skim through the report, finding Chris's name printed beneath a list of survivors that followed a much lengthier list of deceased.

Chris _knew_ ? He _knew_ about the zombies...and he didn't tell her? More than half of the S.T.A.R.S. were dead and he didn't say a _word_ to her about it?

Claire felt rage bubble within her chest.

“I don't understand. Why wouldn't he tell me about this?” She spoke quickly, voice shaking. “I'm his fucking sister!”

Leon struggled to keep up, but he knew enough. It seemed as though Raccoon City wasn't the source of the outbreak after all.

“I don't know, Claire. Maybe he was sworn to secrecy. It's probably an open investigation.”

She tore the drive from the computer angrily.

“ _Secrecy?_  We don't keep secrets from each other.”

Leon kneeled down beside her and turned the chair to face him. Smiling, he placed a hand on her knee and squeezed it gently.

“I'm sure he'll explain once we find him, Claire. Don't worry about all that right now. We need to focus on getting out of here.”

Despite the phantom knife that had been lodged into her back, Claire knew he was right, but she was still determined to beat the shit out of Chris when she found him.

“Alright.” She surrendered, “Let's go.”

Leon pointed towards the door, “You remember how to get back to the hallway, right?”

She nodded her head. It was the _only_ path she was comfortably familiar with, really.

“I need you to go through the west office from the hallway. I unlocked the opposite door and cleaned the room out. It'll...take you to the lobby.” He paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain the rest of his instructions.

“This sounds crazy, I know, but...in the lobby...there's this statue of a woman.” He cringed at himself. “I opened it. That's where the underground path is.”

Claire stared hard in disbelief. Surely he was kidding. Was she in a god damn _horror_ movie? Zombies, monsters, secret police reports, hidden passages…

“I need you to go there. The path below should take you to the parking garage. Wait for me there.”

_What_?

“Wait for you?” She leaned forward in her chair, agitated, “Where are you going?”

Leon sighed.

“I'm going to distract that... _thing_ so you can make it to the parking garage safely.”

Claire shook her head vehemently, nearly whipping herself in the face with the end of her ponytail.

“Like hell you are, Leon! That thing could _kill_ you!”

“Claire.”

God, if he kept saying her name like that, she was going to lose her mind. She stared hard at him.

“I'm going to be fine. _Please_ believe in me.”

Claire refused to budge. There was absolutely no way in _hell_ that she would agree to the plan.

“I thought I was going to be fine too, but look what happened!”

She threw her arms out as though she were on display, drawing attention to all her injuries.

“Remember what I told you, Leon.” She spoke quietly, voice shaking as she tried to keep tears from surfacing, “I can't sleep at night if something happens to you either.”

Leon groaned and ran a hand over his face, exasperated.

“Alright, Claire, but _please_ listen to me if anything happens.”

She held up a hand, little finger extended into the air.

“Pinky promise.” She said lamely and Leon couldn't help but laugh.

After raiding the S.T.A.R.S. office for what little ammunition and medical supplies they could, Claire felt a _smidge_ more at ease about traveling back through the precinct. Given the broken window near the stairs, they opted to continue down the hallway in the opposite direction, a path that Leon insisted would lead to the main lobby after passing through the library.

The library itself had an eerie aura to it. It was deafeningly silent, half of their view of the room obscured by the tall bookshelf that stood in the center of the room. Claire looked at Leon apprehensively and he nodded towards the shelf.

With their handguns raised, each of them approached the shelf, flanking it from either side. Claire could hear her heartbeat thrumming loudly in her ears as she approached. She knew her aim would be off due to the poor posture that her fractured ribs induced and she feared her ability to do much of _anything_ because of it, but she was determined to ensure not only her safety, but Leon's as well.

On the opposite side of the shelf laid a uniformed officer, face down on the ground. Claire paused, staring hard for a while as she attempted to discern whether or not he was breathing. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she _might have_ seen something. Maybe.

Leon approached cautiously, kneeling down beside the officer. With two fingers, he pressed against the side of the downed man's neck, groping for a pulse.

A loud shriek bellowed through the library as the former officer jolted upright, blood pouring down his now visible face as he gripped Leon's shoulders. It gnashed its teeth, spraying him with a fine mist of saliva and blood as Leon held his hands braced against its face in order to maintain distance between himself and it.

_Fuck._ They were fucked no matter what. She could already hear the loud stomping in the distance as their stalker barreled down the hallway, presumably in their direction. With their position compromised, the need for stealth had flown out the window.

Claire moved to stand beside them and held her gun a foot from the zombie's head, too afraid she'd miss and hit Leon from a distance. With her eyes clenched shut, she squeezed the trigger, and the force with which the bullet was expelled from the chamber caught her by surprise.

She hadn't missed, gratefully. The monster fell over as abruptly as he had risen, head split open from the execution shot.

Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, the library door swung open, colliding loudly against the wall as the massive hulk of a man ducked in the doorway. It began to storm towards them, arms heavily swinging at its sides.

“Claire, _run!_ ” Leon shouted, unloading into the monster's chest.

Claire watched with horror as it shifted its attention towards Leon, reeling back an arm to prepare for a punch.

“ _Claire!_ Go! I'll catch up with you!”

Adrenaline was a powerful hormone. In that moment, Claire found herself unable to think. Though she wanted dearly to formulate an alternative plan in order to avoid leaving Leon behind, her mind was fuzzy, unable to focus on anything but his order as it ran through her head like a mantra - _run, run, run, run!_

And run she did - through the door the monster had busted through, down the staircase and past an errant zombie that hobbled about the statue's vicinity. She bolted through the small, strangely placed office and into the nearby elevator, collapsing onto the floor once the door had closed.

Clutching her side, Claire broke into hysterics. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, each heaving sob causing pain to jolt through her chest. She hated herself for coming to Raccoon City, but she hated herself even _more_ for not being of any use.

_Why_ didn't Chris just tell her? She swore she would have believed him.

She remained in the safety of the elevator for a while, trembling as her sobbing tapered off. Claire buried her face in her knees, hugging her legs to her chest as she tried to pep talk herself into continuing.

_Feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help either of you! Stop. Being. A. Pussy._

Using the wall of the elevator for support, she rose from the floor and wiped the dampness on her cheeks away with the back of her wrist. Leon asked her to meet him in the parking garage and that was exactly what she would do, injuries be damned.

There was no sign of life--or _undead_ life--down below, something that she was grateful for. The passageway smelled _old_ , like dust and mildew, but it was a welcome change from the rusty scent of blood that had become commonplace within the precinct.

She found herself eventually standing at the base of a ladder, staring up at a manhole cover from overhead. Wincing, she ascended the ladder, each upward movement of her arm causing muscle in her injured side to stretch painfully. She hissed and wrinkled her nose, steadying herself on one of the upper rungs as best she could as she heaved the metal cover from out of place with a grunt.

It clamored onto the pavement nearby as she dropped it to the side, causing her to wince. Peeking her head through the opening precariously, she found that she had made it to the parking garage.

The _empty_ parking garage, thankfully.

Pulling herself from the hole proved to be another challenge in itself. Once she made it above ground, she collapsed onto the pavement, hugging her side as she drew her knees up to her chest. The medication had taken the edge off, certainly, but it didn't eliminate her discomfort. She cursed under her breath and waited for the ache to subside before rising to her feet.

She made her way towards the shutter that closed off the exit to the garage and eyed it suspiciously. The panel nearby requested a key card for exit, but surely she and Leon could lift it together…

“Hello?”

Claire spun around at the sound of the familiar voice, reaching behind to finger the handgun tucked in the back of her jeans. A portly, grey-haired man stood on the opposite end of the garage and was slowly approaching her.

“Hi, do you know how to get out of here?”

She cut to the chase as she gestured towards the shutter and the man narrowed his eyes as he came in closer to her.

“Are you... _Claire Redfield_?” He asked, leaving her question unacknowledged.

Claire gave him a strange look. How the hell could he have known that? Her brother wasn't exactly a social butterfly, so she sincerely doubted that he was a _friend._

“Maybe.” She kept her hand on the gun. “Who are you?”

He reached for the badge pinned to the front of his vest and held it up on display.

“Brian Irons, Chief of Police.”

Oh, _hallelujah_. Surely the fucking Chief of Police could get into contact with Chris.

“I’m trying to find Chris, but he doesn't seem to be here.” She swallowed hard, hand returning to her side.

The older man's face lit up and he smiled warmly.

“He's at the Raccoon Orphanage, dear. I can take you there.”

Claire froze.

Kevin hadn't said anything about the orphanage. Why the hell would Chris be at an orphanage?

“I…”

She trusted Kevin. Why would the Chief of Police _lie_? Maybe he was just mistaken.

She gave him a quizzical look.

“I...I'm waiting on a friend to meet me here. Once we regroup, we can head that way.” She lied. “He's one of the officers here, so he knows the route.”

The man's demeanor changed. Suddenly, his eyebrows furrowed, jaw setting into a hard expression. His face grew red and Claire slowly reached for her gun once more.

Chief Irons drew his own weapon quickly and pointed it directly at her face.

“I'd hate to fuck up your pretty face anymore than it already is.” He nodded towards the ground, finger moving to curl around the trigger.

“Drop whatever weapon it is that you're hiding and get on your knees.”

She began to panic. Her heart raced so quickly that she became lightheaded.

“I...I think there's a misunderstanding here, sir.”

He pulled back the hammer of his gun with an audible click.

“Did I fucking stutter, _sweetheart_?”

Claire hardly heard the clatter of her gun falling to the pavement as she obeyed, sinking to her knees with her hands in the air. Irons grinned, handgun still trained on her as he approached.

“Such a pretty girl.” He murmured against the shell of her outer ear as he forcefully bent her arms behind her back. “Why'd you have to go and fuck up your face?”

She whimpered out of both pain and fear. Was this guy really _Chief of fucking Police?_

“Don't worry, though.” His breath was foul and stale and she suppressed the urge to gag. “I'll fix it.”

Oh _fuck._

She attempted to rise to escape, but he shoved her hard, causing her to fall sideways against the pavement. Claire let out a howl of pain as she felt the side of her face begin to sting, delicate flesh likely broken from the rough surface upon which she fell.

“Definitely a Redfield.” He muttered, pulling a wad of cloth from his pocket. “Always a pain in my fucking ass.”

The last thing she saw was the fuck looming over her, sweat pouring down his face as he shoved the rag in her mouth and her world faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... :')
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments. I'm really excited about this one. A huge hug goes out to Xaori as always for validating my terrible decisions and empowering me to bully my characters.


	5. Chapter 5

Were she anyone else, the stench of the sewers might have bothered her. It was strange, she supposed, to be so comfortable when surrounded by the rotten aroma of trash and decay, but it was something she had quickly grown accustomed to given the amount of time she spent underground. If she were feeling particularly wry, she might have even considered it her second home.

Not that her _actual_ home was much of a home at all. Fluorescent lighting, the tang of clinical grade antiseptic, and the company of a bunch of boring scientists didn’t make for the most relaxing environment. In a way, she was almost grateful for the outbreak due to the fact that it offered a break from the monotony.

Finally, things had gotten interesting. The humdrum of routine was interrupted at last...though, she supposed the circumstances could have been better.

The path back to Raccoon City was one that she knew like the back of her hand. Traveling between home and the city via the waterways underground was something she had done often in order to avoid detection and staying out of sight was more important than ever now.

At least...until she made it to the police station. There were no weapons at home, but the police station was bound to have _something_ she could use for self-defense against the monsters. Using the parking garage as an entry point was the easiest way. She could use the elevator to get to the Chief’s office and goodness knew that creepy old man _had_ to have had something hidden in there for her to use.

The streets were dismally dark and damp, the darkness of night amplifying the eeriness of the low groans that rolled in the distance. It was strangely fitting for the city to fall to the T-Virus on a night like this. Maybe the universe was mourning over it.

A loud hiss came from beside her and she turned to face the woman who stumbled about nearby, skin abnormally grey and clothing disheveled beyond repair. The flesh of her face had been burned away to reveal the yellowed bone beneath and she shrieked, forcing blood to pour from her mouth and dribble down her chin.

She had seen first-hand how ruthless the T-Virus could be. How unfortunate that the geniuses at Umbrella couldn’t manage to keep it contained.

Paying the zombie no mind, she continued across the street. The police station was within view and soon, _very_ soon, she could finally make it out of there.

* * *

 Leon grit his teeth together tightly, holding in the gasp of pain that threatened to slip free. Now that he had encountered the monster himself, he understood how Claire had managed to sustain such crippling injuries. Hell, he was almost surprised that the both of them weren’t dead at this point.

He had done his best to avoid the creature’s blows, but that _damn_ zombie had gotten in the way. In his adrenaline-fueled haste, he had forgotten about the one that made its way inside. At the time, his only instinct was survival--not solely his, but Claire’s as well--and he had been far too focused on drawing the behemoth away from her to formulate a proper strategy for himself.

Once he had hopped off the staircase, the bastard came at him from around the corner, grabbing him by the shoulders and attempting to help itself to a mouthful of his face. The struggle to keep it off of him had slowed him down and, the next thing he knew, both he and the zombie were flying down the hallway as a result of the force of the blow that came from behind.

At least it had helped him escape...he guessed. He had been thrown closer to the west office and he was able to make his way below ground with little struggle despite the monster that steadily stomped after him.

How he had allowed himself to slip up so badly, he wasn’t sure. He _knew_ better than to panic. It was one of the most vital skills required to be able to serve and protect efficiently. What kind of officer was he? One that choked under pressure?

And what the hell was that monster? It didn’t even so much as flinch when he shot at it. If bullets weren’t enough to take it down, what _was_?

He hoped it was one of a kind. Zombies were more than enough to deal with.

When he came across the ladder, he let out a quiet groan of frustration. His shoulder had been throbbing ever since the monster struck him and his range of motion with his arm had been limited. Would he even be able to climb it?

Only one way to find out.

Grunting, he used his right arm to take hold of one of the rungs and steadied himself on the ladder. With each step he took, he struggled to steady himself, wobbling as he attempted to maintain his balance. It was no use - he’d _have_ to try to use the other arm.

The ripping sensation that coursed through his shoulder was almost enough to knock him back to the ground.

After a long period of struggle, he made his way to the top of the ladder and collapsed against the pavement, gasping with pain. His right hand rose to cradle his injured shoulder and he forced himself to sit upright in order to survey his surroundings.

There was no sign of life. His only company was that of abandoned vehicles.

Where was Claire? The question made his heart skip a beat and he rose to his feet quickly to peer over the roofs of the cars, injury be damned.

“Claire?”

As he rounded the car nearby, he caught the glint of metal in his periphery. A gun laid on the ground, one that he was certain he had seen before. Bracing his palm against his shoulder, he leaned down to lift it for closer inspection.

It _was_ Claire’s gun.

His heart seized in his chest.

“ _CLAIRE?_!”

He spun around, frantically looking for any sign of her. With a quick sprint, he weaved between the cars, hoping to find her in hiding somewhere.

Nothing. No one.

“Hey!”

The soft voice caused him to jump in his own skin and he turned back towards the shutter that sealed off the parking garage, surprised to find a young girl standing on the opposite side. His attention was immediately drawn to the red stain smeared across the front of her uniform.

“H-hey, are you okay?”

He swallowed hard as he approached, fearing for the worst. How could a kid be left alone at a time like this? Where were her parents?

The girl looked down at the front of her shirt, strands of pale blonde hair coming loose from her bun and falling into her face.

“Oh…” She shrugged as she looked back up at him, bright blue eyes catching his. “This isn’t mine.”

The coolness with which she spoke caught him off guard. She had said it so casually, as if being covered in someone else’s blood was a common occurrence.

The poor girl was probably in shock. Leon hadn’t even thought about a kid being subjected to all this. He wasn’t sure _how_ to handle this. Interacting with kids wasn’t necessarily his forte.

“Ah...that’s...that’s good.” He nodded his head as he moved closer to the shutter, squatting down to her height.

“My name is Leon...I’m a police officer here.” He gestured back towards the parking garage. “I can help you.”

The girl stared blankly.

“What’s your name?” He asked, forcing a smile.

“Sherry.”

She slid a small card through the gaps between the bars of the shutter.

“Can you please open this?”

Sherry pointed towards the card reader beside them and he looked down at the tattered parking ticket with surprise.

“How did you…”

“I found it.”

She looked back over her shoulder to ensure that the street was still empty and he slid the card into the slot, grimacing as the shutter loudly rose.

“How did you get here?” He asked as she whisked past him, moving towards a door in the corner.

“...I walked here.”

Leon felt the urge to smack himself for asking such a stupid question. If she had come from the street, maybe Claire had gotten through and…

“Hey, did you see a woman on your way here?” He sprinted towards her, using his hand to provide a visual of Claire’s height.

“She’s kind of tall, hair in a ponytail, jeans…” He paused, “Really injured.”

Sherry raised an eyebrow.

“Your girlfriend?”

Leon’s face suddenly felt hot as he pictured Claire standing in the dark room, flushed lips parted and eyes held closed as though she were waiting for him to…

He shook his head roughly.

“No, just a friend. We were going to meet up here, but she’s missing…” His cleared his throat before he added, “I’m really worried about her.”

Sherry hesitated, hand on the door as she looked back at the garage. She seemed to be searching for something and Leon turned as well, curious to discover what had earned her attention. Finding nothing, he turned back in time to see Sherry point a finger towards the ceiling of the garage.

“Did you check the camera?”

The embarrassment that came over him caused his stomach to flip. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Well, he probably would have, but Sherry showed up before he had a chance to. He definitely would have thought of it eventually. He was a cop, after all.

“Uh...not yet.”

She pushed open the door and waved for him to follow.

“Where are we going?” He asked, unfamiliar with the narrow hallway they had entered.

“Mr. Irons’ office.” She said casually, punching a few buttons on the panel nearby to summon the elevator.

Did she mean...Brian Irons? Like, Chief of the Raccoon Police Department Brian Irons? How the hell did she know him? Did the Chief have a kid? He could have sworn he wasn’t married…

“You know the Chief?” He asked and Sherry shrugged.

“He’s my dad’s friend.”

A strange sense of duty came over him. If Sherry’s father was a fellow officer, he would definitely do everything within his power to safely get her back to him.

“Is your father an officer?” He asked as the elevator came to a stop and Sherry shook her head.

Well...he’d still help her. She was just a kid lost in the zombie apocalypse and it was his job to serve and protect no matter what the situation.

“Where is your dad?”

Sherry paused as she stepped off the elevator, one hand braced against the open door.

“He’s...gone now.”

Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and Leon felt guilty for asking. He couldn’t even fathom being in Sherry’s shoes.

“Sherry, I’m so sorry.”

The girl continued down the hallway before murmuring, “Don’t be, he did it to himself.”

It was almost as though a spear had been driven squarely through his chest. They were in the midst of a severe outbreak that seemed to be fresh out of a horror film and her father had been selfish enough to commit _suicide_ and leave her behind? What kind of father _did_ that?

There was no question about it at this point: Leon had to protect both her and Claire.

Leon had never previously found himself in the Chief’s office, but it was nothing like he could have imagined it to be. He wasn’t sure which aspect of it was more shocking--the stale stench of chemically preserved animals or the dead animals themselves? Maybe it wasn’t as strange as he thought. The Chief was probably a hunter who took pride in his work.

Sherry led him around the back of the office to a series of monitors that gave him soundless, grainy, grayscale views of various parts of the station.

“How did you know about this?”

The girl glared at him.

“I told you that he’s friends with my dad. I’ve been here before.”

She began to fiddle with a keyboard nearby, rewinding the video of the parking garage until two figures appeared on the screen and Leon watched Irons’ assault of Claire in horror.

How could the _Chief of Police_ do such a thing? They had taken an oath to serve and protect. Only the best officers received the rank of Chief, so why in the world would Chief Irons _do_ that?

“I…” Leon fumbled for words, mouth falling open and closed as he watched the footage play a second time.

“Oh.” Sherry turned towards Leon, expression stoic. “I know where he took her.”

Leon raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“ _How_ could you know that? Did you see it go down?”

Sherry shook her head.

“No, but I know he’s at the orphanage.” Her expression darkened as she added, “I’ve...seen the things he does there.”

* * *

 The right side of her head was throbbing so intensely that she struggled to open her eyes. Claire attempted to raise an arm to press her palm against the side of her skull, but found her movement to be restricted. Cracking open her eyelids, she groaned, unable to make out anything around her on account of the blinding yellow light above her and her blurred vision.

Faintly, she could make out the sound of music in the background. Was that... _opera_?

Great. She truly had died and gone to hell.

Claire grunted and thrashed against her restraints, clenching her eyes shut to attempt to force her vision to fuse back to normal. She assumed she had been bound by ropes given the way the fabric cut into her skin, her movements producing enough friction to leave a burning sensation behind.

She opened her eyes once more, finding the ceiling above her.

Where the hell was she?

She turned her head to the side and suppressed the scream that rose in her throat. Draped on the table beside her was the corpse of a young woman, long dead given the blue tint of her skin. Claire didn’t know who she was, nor did she particularly care, but she felt panic set in at the prospect of the body beside her reanimating.

Suddenly, the events from the parking garage came rushing back through her mind and her blood began to boil.

“Hey, you fucker!” She called out, trying her best to sit upright on the table.

Irons peeked his head in from around the corner and gave her a stern look.

“Claire, dear, you’re interrupting the best part of the song.”

“Fuck that,” She spat, whimpering as she forced herself into a half-seated position despite the burning in her abs and the stabbing sensation in her side, “And fuck you.”

If she was going to die, she refused to let it happen quietly or easily. Claire was determined to put up as much of a fight as possible and if words were the only weapon she could wield, so be it.

The older man grinned wickedly as he watched her struggle to maneuver in her bindings. With an amused expression, he turned towards a table nearby and began to fiddle with tools that had been laid out upon its surface.

“I’ve always despised your brother, you know.” He mused aloud, “He’s a thorn in my side that just keeps burrowing deeper...and deeper...and **_deeper_** _._ ”

Claire sneered at him.

“Yeah, and he’ll be the guy who fucking _kills_ you if you so much as touch me, you dick.”

His laughed bitterly.

“You’re so adorable, Claire. You think _anyone_ is going to survive this?”

He burst into boisterous laughter this time, guffaws so strong that he was forced to press a palm to his belly as he bellowed them out.

Claire felt her heart sink, but tried her best to ignore the sensation. If anyone was going to survive this, it _would_ be Chris. Plus, if Jill truly was with him, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d make it.

Fuck this guy, man. He was trying to play mind games with her.

“Chris will make it.”

It was almost as if she were trying to convince herself of it as she spoke it aloud.

“Oh, Claire. You haven’t even _seen_ what Umbrella is capable of.”

What the fuck was he talking about? Umbrella, the _pharmaceutical_ company, was responsible for all of this? The outbreak was _intentional?_

“Both you and Umbrella can go fuck themselves.”

The tools clattered against the table as he beelined towards her, tightly taking a hold of her jaw and forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Such a foul mouth on such a pretty face.”

The sticky feel of the sweat that slicked his fleshy hand made her want to vomit. She whipped her head to the side quickly, attempting to break free of his grasp, but his grip only tightened. He stared at her with his dark, beady eyes and she wished so desperately that she could punch the smirk off his stupid fucking face.

“You really shouldn’t have gone and fucked up your face.” He chided as he ran his thumb along the side of her face, applying enough pressure to a bruise to force her to inhale sharply with pain.

“Your face was really all you had going for you. Your body is…” His eyes roamed the length of her body as he paused, “...lacking, to say the least.”

Bile rose in her throat at his commentary. Who the hell was he to talk about her body?

“Nevertheless, you may be my best specimen yet.” Irons looked down at the corpse beside her with disdain. “Miss Warren just had to go and fuck up her complexion.”

What a fucking psychopath.

“You know, turning blue is something that typically happens to dead people.” She scowled at him. “Just go take a walk around the city and see for yourself.”

He laughed once again as he released her face.

“Miss Redfield, I’m very well acquainted with the changes that occur in death.”

“Oh, my bad. I must have forgotten that you were a fucking psychopath for a minute there.”

Claire watched him retrieve an apron from a rack nearby.

“You know, Chris isn’t the only one looking for me. One of your other cops is too.”

Irons didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Instead, he gave her a sympathetic look and shook his head. “I’m a cop, honey. I know how to hide a trail. _No one_ knows I’ve been cooperating with Umbrella.”

Working with Umbrella? The guy was somehow more deranged than she originally thought. With bated breath, she watched him rummage through a drawer and eventually withdraw a syringe.

“I swear to god I’ll fucking scream.” She spoke quickly, voice a little frantic as she began to imagine what he intended to do with the needle.

“No need.” A voice coolly replied, causing him to drop the syringe in surprise.

Maybe she wasn’t in hell after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright my friends, hear me out with this one. I know I'm always ranting about keeping everyone in-character, but Xaori and I just...don't like RE2 remake Sherry. We figured that she's probably pretty jaded from seeing Umbrella's experiments and being neglected by her parents, so I decided to make her...kind of badass and extremely weird. Maybe she's a little older in this universe, I don't know, but I seriously couldn't stop laughing while writing her. Please forgive me for this sin. :'(


	6. Chapter 6

“Stay close to me, alright?”

Leon kneeled down in front of Sherry and placed a hand on the side of her arm. He felt uneasy about leaving the precinct, but Sherry's presence somehow made the prospect even more unsettling. She was smart, certainly, but the notion of watching over a child made him anxious enough. Throw a few zombies into the mix and there was bound to be a disaster.

Sherry stared at him blankly, even as he forced a smile and reiterated, “I won't let anything happen to you, but you have to stay close.”

She shifted her weight on her hip and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Can't you just give me a gun? I can actually help that way.”

Leon fell into a stunned silence, jaw going slack as he attempted to process the girl’s request. Regardless of the circumstances, it somehow seemed unethical to arm a child with a gun. Sherry definitely seemed _different_ than other children he had met, but it still didn’t seem right to let her carry a weapon.

“Sherry, have you ever used a gun before?” He asked, not necessarily entertaining the idea of granting her request. Leon was simply curious.

Sherry shrugged, “No, but I don’t think it takes a genius to aim and pull a trigger.”

Words failed him as he tried to conjure an appropriate response. It took a _lot_ more effort than pointing and shooting to be a talented shot. He had endured plenty of hours of firearms training in the police academy to know first-hand.

“Uh, it's...not that easy, Sherry.”

She stared at him for a moment in silence before turning on her heel, no longer entertaining the conversation. It made him feel strangely uncomfortable and he wondered if he should have apologized. After all, Sherry was just a kid and it made sense for her to want a weapon under such violent circumstances.

The rain continued in a slow, steady downpour as they made their way through the dark streets of Raccoon City. Sherry led the way, much to Leon's dismay, casually pointing in the direction of zombies that loomed in the distance. They were far off enough to not be a threat as they ducked through the side street, following a fire escape around a nearby building.

“Are you sure you know the way?” Leon asked genuinely, not attempting to come off as snarky.

Sherry halted and turned to give him a scathing look. Her piercing blue eyes made him uncomfortable and he looked away, ashamed for having been intimidated by a child. They remained in silence for a moment before Sherry continued along the path, the metal of the fire escape rattling beneath her sneakers as she stepped.

At the base of the stairs, a solitary zombie loomed about, its back turned towards them. Leon reached forward to snatch Sherry by her collar, forcing her to stand still as he moved ahead of her. She glared at him and opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed a finger to his lips, beckoning her to remain silent.

Leon crept up behind the zombie, unsheathing the knife Claire had lent him. With a quick, calculated movement, he drove it into the nape of the zombie's neck, severing tissue and nerves with ease. It collapsed onto the ground, grunting and gnashing its teeth despite its body paralysis.

“Gross.” Sherry commented, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over the crumpled corpse.

Leon wiped the knife off on his pant leg and sighed, vexed by her judgment.

“I didn't want to alert them all with a gunshot. I did what I had to do.”

Sherry didn't acknowledge his explanation and instead led him through a nearby basketball court, taking care to open the chain link fence slowly to keep from generating too much racket. As they passed through, she pointed to a stalk of leaves growing through a crack in the pavement.

“You might want that.”

“Uh…” Leon was nonplussed as he stared at the plant, “...Why?”

Sherry sighed and shook her head in disbelief.

“Didn't you say your girlfriend is really hurt? That plant has medicinal properties.”

“She's not my gir--”

“ _Okay._ ”

Sherry cut him off, snatching up the plant by the roots and handing it to him, clods of dirt tumbling to the pavement as she held it before him.

Leon almost regretted bringing Sherry along. She was making him feel like a damn idiot. His instructors in the academy had done a fine job of humiliating him, but that was nothing compared to what this girl had accomplished in such a short period of time. Not particularly eager to endure more backtalk, he simply stuffed the plant into one of his leg pouches and dropped the conversation.

“Nearly there.” Sherry whispered, passing through the opposite gate.

The path ahead was blocked by wreckage, forcing them to pass through a broken down bus. As they approached, an audible clicking sound echoed from within. He gave Sherry a commanding look as he drew his gun and she held up her hands, stepping back to perch herself on a nearby bench.

Leon carefully stepped into the bus and peered down the length of the vehicle. In the center of the aisle, a creature loomed over a fallen corpse. Tiptoeing closer, Leon gripped his handgun more firmly as the details of the monster came into view.

It appeared to have had its flesh stripped away, sinews of muscle and folds of brain tissue clearly visible. Mounted on all fours, it allowed its unnaturally long tongue to slither out in order to lap at the pool of blood that stained the floor of the bus.

“Jesus Ch--”

Before he could finish uttering his shock, the creature let out a shrill cry and spun backwards, leaping for him. It mounted him, pinning him to the ground and causing his handgun to fly out of his grip and slide across the floor. The monster leaned in close, razor sharp teeth bared as saliva dribbled down its chin, splattering hotly on his face.

It reared back a claw and let out another cry before slashing him across the chest. Burning, searing pain coursed through him and he let out a groan of pain, fumbling for his gun beneath a nearby seat. The creature's tongue darted out from between its fangs and began to aggressively lap at his chest.

A series of gunshots sounded and Leon found himself sprayed with a mixture of saliva, brain matter, and blood. The creature fell on top of him, writhing in its final moments before growing limp and heavy on his chest.

With a grunt, he shoved it off him, gasping as the movement strained the laceration across his chest. Sherry came to stand beside him, holding out his handgun to him with a single hand. He looked up at her, wincing as he pressed a palm to his chest to stem the bleeding and took the gun from her.

“For the record…” She leaned over and pointed at the creature, “They're blind. Keep your mouth shut next time.”

Maybe he should have armed her after all, morals be damned.

* * *

 “What are _you_ doing here?”

Irons’ voice quavered as his hands balled into fists, a flush of rage surfacing on his skin. Claire felt a sense of victory bubble in her chest at the sight of him being so frazzled and she felt the hints of a smirk tug at the corner of her mouth. Turning her head to the side, she craned her neck in order to get a better view of her savior.

The woman stood in the doorway of the room, one hand poised on her hip with the other firmly grasping a handgun that was pointed directly at Irons. Her painted lips were pulled into a slight smile, eyes hidden behind dark shades.

“Nice to see you, Brian.” She spoke smoothly, heels striking the tile floor in a strong, confident strut as she moved further into the room.

Irons reached behind his body, eyes still focused on the woman as he fumbled for something on the desk. In response, she fired a shot, causing Claire to flinch and splinters of wood to fly into the air, the bullet having pierced the desk. Irons jerked his hand back to his side with a bewildered look on his face.

“Where is William?” She asked, voice having suddenly become icy.

Sweat had broken out on Irons’ forehead and dribbled down the side of his face. He wiped at his brow with the back of his hand, attention fixed on the woman.

“I don't know.”

Her deep red lips parted to reveal bright white teeth as she smiled and laughed softly.

“Do you take me for a fool?”

She stepped closer, pulling back the hammer of her pistol with a loud click. Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn't necessary to pull the hammer on that particular type of gun. What a drama queen this woman was.

“O-of course not.” He stammered, waving his hands in the air dismissively. “I haven't been able to make contact with him for days.”

The woman sighed and shrugged her shoulders, rolling her neck as if to work out a kink.

“What a shame that is.”

There was a hint of snark in her voice and she kept the gun trained on him as she meandered around the room, studying their surroundings. She closed in on Claire and tilted her head to the side curiously.

“Another one of your trophies, Brian?”

Claire wanted to vomit. Perhaps the woman wasn't such a savior after all. Was she an accomplice?

“This man drugged and _kidnapped_ me.” Claire spoke quickly, almost frantically. “I don't even know him. I'm just looking for my brother so we can leave. And my friend...he's a cop, he's looking for me.”

The woman gave her a smile, but she couldn't discern the sincerity of it on account of her impossibly dark shades shielding her eyes from view.

“Poor girl.”

Her supposedly sympathetic comment certainly didn't sound genuine, not with its deadpan delivery. Claire felt her frustration begin to build once more. Maybe she wasn't going to make it out alive after all.

_Sorry, Chris._ She idly thought to herself, eyes held closed as though lost in prayer. _And Leon, too._

The clicking of heels caught her attention and she watched Ada move close to Irons.

“You know, I only tolerated you because of William.”

She trailed her hand along the surface of his chest, perfectly painted nails dragging across the fabric of his shirt. Irons all but gulped, squeezing his eyes shut briefly before looking back at the woman, eyes shining and apologetic.

“Listen, Ada, I'm sure we can work something out. I can tr--”

“Shh.” Ada pressed a finger to his lips. “I don't want to hear it.”

She moved behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders, rubbing them slowly and methodically. His expression did not shift to one of relief. Instead, the action seemed to put him even further on edge and he let out a small whine.

“Relax, Brian.” Ada whispered against his ear, lips just a hair's width away from his skin.

Her demeanor shifted instantly and she gave him a harsh shove as she gritted out, “On your knees.”

Irons obeyed, face twisted into an expression of terror as he lowered himself to his knees slowly. He placed his hands on the floor and bent over as if in prayer, whispering against the floor, “Ada, please, I…”

Ada didn't hesitate to hear his plea. Claire's eyes widened as the woman fired a single shot, bullet piercing through Irons’ skull with ease. His body doubled over onto the floor, blood gushing freely from the open wound in his forehead as he stared at the adjacent wall, eyes glassy and unseeing.

“I never could stand that _pig._ ” Ada commented, treading around his body remorselessly.

She pulled down her shades to expose her almond-shaped eyes as she studied Claire. After a moment, she raised an eyebrow and readjusted her glasses to their original position.

“He did a number on you, honey.”

Claire rolled her eyes.

“As if. This was from...something else.”

Ada didn't care to know what Claire referred to, so she didn't ask. Shrugging, she moved back towards the exit of the room and Claire turned as best she could in her restraints.

“Hey!” She called out, “Aren't you going to untie me first?”

Claire heard Ada sigh before she turned around, pulling back the hem of her trench coat to reveal the lace edge of her stockings. With a deft motion, she pulled a knife from her garter belt and moved back to Claire, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared her down once more.

“This will be the extent of my assistance.”

Ada leaned forward to slice open the ties that bound her wrists and Claire let out a sigh of relief. Rubbing the tender flesh of her wrists, she watched Ada undo the restraints on her ankles and she swung her legs over the side of the table.

“I don't need any other help anyway.”

Claire hissed as she stood, her side throbbing with piercing pain. Ada smiled mockingly and rolled a shoulder in a shrug, heading back towards the exit.

“Be careful out there, girl.” She spoke smoothly, one hand holding the door ajar as she stood in the open doorway. “Brian was just the tip of the iceberg. There are many more monsters in Raccoon's closet.”

With that, she left, leaving Claire to curse under her breath as she looked back at the corpse on the table beside her.

“Fuck.” She murmured, experimentally running her fingers over the hard, blue flesh of the woman's arm. “That could have been me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all thought it was Leon but it was that bitch in the red dress, Ada, all along. >:)


	7. Chapter 7

The stench of formaldehyde was overwhelming, blindsiding her with a pungency so strong that her eyes began to water from the very moment she stepped outside of Irons’ workshop. Covering her mouth and nose with her hand, Claire swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat and crept along the length of the hallway, the shelves adorning its walls decorated with various dead animals that had been subjected to Irons’ taxidermy attempts. The only weapon she had managed to procure from Irons’ tool stash was a large bowie knife and, despite its formidable size, she didn't feel particularly safe with only it on hand.

Upon entering the front lobby of the orphanage, Claire broke into a shiver as a chill licked at her skin, eliciting gooseflesh along the surface. There was something incredibly unsettling about the area. Every surface was blanketed in a thick layer of dust with a wide array of toys littered about the hardwood floor. Kneeling down, she lifted one of the stuffed toys from the ground and grimaced immediately at the sight. What had once been a teddy bear was now a tattered mess, eyes ripped from the fabric and rough stitches struggling to keep it together. Dropping the plush onto the floor, she flipped an overturned doll onto its back, finding it equally mutilated with limbs torn away and a shattered, stained porcelain face.

_Fuck this,_ she thought to herself. _Just get the fuck out._

Claire shifted her attention to the front door and let out a long sigh. Thickly cut metal chain had been wrapped around the handles multiple times, effectively locking her in and keeping anything else out.

Turning on her heel, she moved to ascend the nearby staircase, but paused at the base of the stairs to assess the area. The carpet leading up the center of the staircase was ruined by several dark stains, irregular in shape and splattered along the entire length of the rug. It appeared to be blood and Claire nudged at a spot with the toe of her boot, finding it to still be slightly tacky and damp.

Her grip on the knife tightened, unsure of whether another presence lingered within the orphanage. Taking a moment to prepare herself, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose, desperately attempting to recall the few times Chris had taught her how to use a knife.

_“Why would I need a knife when guns exist?” A teenage Claire asked, lips petulantly pulled into a pout as she studied the knife in her hand._

_In the sunlight, the blade shone brightly, reflecting the light off its surface in a way that emphasized its sharpness. She turned it over in her palm, familiarizing herself to the weight of the hilt against her hand as Chris crossed his arms over his chest, clearly unimpressed by her commentary._

_“You won't always have access to a gun,” He deadpanned, “But a knife is easy enough to conceal and carry with you, campus laws be damned.”_

_Claire raised a curious eyebrow, attention shifting from the knife to her brother's face._

_“I think you're paranoid.”_

_“I'm a cop, Claire. I've seen enough bullshit to know what can happen to a pretty young girl who insists on riding a bike in the middle of the night through a shady ass college town despite her brother telling her not to.”_

_She smiled sheepishly, a flush surfacing on her cheeks. When he said it like that, she supposed it did sound like a bad idea, but…_

_“Fine,” She surrendered, “Teach me how to disembowel the next drunk guy who creeps on me.”_

Though it hadn't happened too long ago, it felt as though it had occurred in an entirely different lifetime. This entire ordeal had aged her, made her disturbingly aware of the fact that Chris had been right all along about the creatures that go bump in the night. He had warned her that all it takes to become a victim is being in the wrong place at the wrong time and now she had first-hand proof of that.

She swore to herself that she'd listen to him from now on.

Opening her eyes, she stared up at the level above and nearly leapt out of her own skin upon catching sight of a dirty, moonlike face staring back at her. From between the bars, a child peered down at her, soiled hands clutching the railing as it watched with dark, lifeless eyes.

“H-hey…” She spoke softly, moving the knife out of sight in hopes that it hadn't been seen. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

Claire winced at her own words. Were she in the kid's shoes, she probably wouldn't have believed herself.

The child tilted its head to the side and watched her curiously. The shadows hid the majority of its face, save the glisten of its dark eyes and its petite, upturned nose. She couldn't make out much from the distance and she carefully ascended the next step, causing the wood beneath to groan in protest of her weight.

In turn, the child scrambled away, falling back into the darkness above.

“Hey, wait!” She called out, but was met with the rough slam of a door.

With haste, she ascended the staircase, hissing as the stitch in her side returned with the movement. She braced her arm against her ribs and fumbled through her pockets, discovering a lighter that she had swiped off of Chris the last time he paid her a visit.

After a few attempts, the click of the lighter finally yielded a small flame that bathed her surroundings in an eerie, flickering glow. The wood paneling on the walls nearby was damaged, chipped and marred by long, jagged indentations in the wood that Claire hoped weren't made by prying, desperate fingers.

“This is insane.” She muttered to herself as she studied the artwork that was plastered along the walls. Some pieces were ordinary, all sloppy, smiling sunshine and stick figures holding hands. Others were far more sinister with blurs of black, purple, and red and clawed figures that bent at unnatural angles.

It was an orphanage, she realized, after noticing the awards within a display case nearby. Dozens of accolades had been given to the facility by the government, local hospital, and none other than Umbrella themselves. It all left a foul taste in her mouth and a sinking sensation in her gut. Something told her that she would regret unveiling what lay beyond the door ahead.

Claire hesitated outside the door for a while, fingertips lingering on the brushed metal doorknob.

“Hey…” She forced herself to make it come off as bubbly as possible. “I'm going to come inside, okay? We can leave this place together and meet my friend outside. He's a police officer and he can help us...”

Silence.

Taking in another ragged breath, Claire forced herself to open the door and pushed it ajar at an impossibly slow pace. A labored cry came from the opposite side of the door and she shoved it open as something in the room reflected the flickering light back at her.

It was _blood_ that glinted in the low light, massive pools and smears of ruby red in a quantity so great that Claire was surprised to know a single human body could house it all.

“Sherry isn't here!”

The child from before was huddled in the corner, bloodshot eyes wide as he screamed at the creature in the center of the room. It was a behemoth of a monster, clearly having once been a human. Its arm had been mutated, hulking and fleshy in appearance, its shoulder having gone so much hypertrophy that the man's head was pushed to the side at a concerning angle.

When it turned, Claire caught a glimpse of the massive eyeball that peeked out from the swollen tissue of its arm, yellow and sinister as it rolled about in its socket.

“...SheRRY...goNE?”

The monster's voice was strained, fluctuating in pitch as it struggled to speak. It hadn't noticed her, all of its attention wavering between the child and the woman crumpled on the floor. Claire watched her briefly, looking for the rise of a chest to signify some sign of life, but found none. The woman was battered, lying face down in a pool of blood that was likely hers, given the massive gash that tore through the back of her white coat and flesh alike.

“She's gone!” The boy yelled, trembling. “I don't know where she is, but she's not here!”

Claire watched in horror as the monstrosity stepped closer to the child, looming over him. The dim moonlight that filtered through the window cast shadows along the boy's figure, shrouding him in darkness as the creature reared back its deformed arm.

“ _Hey_!”

The sound of Claire's voice was a surprise to both parties. With heavy footsteps, the monster struggled to turn towards her, pivoting its entire body in her direction due to the lack of flexibility in its neck. It let out a low growl, an inhumane sound that made the hairs along the back of her neck stand on end.

“WhO?” It bellowed, the eyeball in its arm rolling about in an attempt to focus on her.

“Doesn't matter.” The icy, authoritative tone that she managed to force surprised her. “Keep your hands off the kid.”

The monster grunted and took a step in her direction, but rather than shrinking back, Claire remained where she stood. Her blue eyes were narrowed as she glared at the creature and hoped that she appeared even _slightly_ intimidating despite her rounded face and faint freckles.

She wasn't really surprised when the monster lunged at her, but she was impressed with her reflexes. Despite the wounds and pain that tore through her, she managed to duck and swerve out of the monster's trajectory as it clumsily swung its arm towards her face. She reacted on instinct and drove the knife into the eye on its arm, causing the creature to howl in pain as it stumbled back, clutching at the mutated arm with its more human-like one.

“Dad, stop!”

Sherry had sprinted into the room, hands held in the air as she shrieked at her father. She wore a mortified expression, cheeks flushed and tendrils of her blonde hair loose from her rapid ascension of the stairs. Leon came into view from behind her, slack-jawed in awe as he caught sight of Sherry's alleged father.

“SherRY…”

Her father stepped forward, shoulder slumped forward as its arm hung limply, Claire's knife still deeply lodged in sensitive tissue. There was a flash of recognition in his human eye and his face twisted into a pained expression as he stared Sherry down.

Sherry stepped between Claire and her father, arms crossed over her chest as she gave him a petulant pout.

“I don’t need your help!” She spat, gesturing towards Leon with an open hand. “Leon is helping me get out of here!”

Claire gave Leon a perplexed look and he sighed as he mouthed, _I’ll tell you later._

Sherry’s father faced Leon as his breath came in ragged pants, pained by either the wound or his bizarre anatomical changes. Before he could make any sort of movement, Sherry moved to sidle into the distance between the two men, arms outstretched at either side of her body.

“If you’re going to hurt him, you have to kill me first!”

She jutted her chin into the air and looked down her nose at her father, eyes narrowed in challenge. Claire watched in awe as her father let out a growl and shoved past her to loudly hobble down the staircase. The four of them sat in silence, eyes fixed on the doorway as they heard the rattling of chains and splintering of wood.

At least she could be grateful for the monstrosity taking the initiative to tear down the damn door.

Sherry let out a long sigh and shook her head as she walked towards the boy curled up in the corner of the room.

“Come on.” She leaned forward to offer her hand and tugged him to his feet.

“Sherry…” Leon began to speak with a thousand questions running through his mind, leaving him uncertain about where to begin, “Was that...really your father?”

She stood quietly for a while, reflecting on the question. Though he hadn’t meant for it to be, it was more difficult to answer than it seemed. Was he her father? Yeah, he had been at some point, but what was he _now_? Clearly, some semblance of her father still remained, but for how long?

Sherry was well acquainted with the unforgiving nature of the G-Virus. Once it latched onto something, it didn’t stop. It was a resilient virus, unresponsive to all attempts to eradicate it from a host’s system. The G-Virus became a permanent part of its host, always lingering in wait for the opportunity to consume it.

“Yep.”

It was the only response she could muster and she tugged the kid by the arm into the next room, closing the door behind them as she called out, “Talking in private - no adults allowed!”

Claire allowed her composure to falter then, hunching forward to clench at her sides. Both the adrenaline and the painkiller had worn off at this point and she let out a quiet grunt from the pain.

“Claire…”

Leon rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and back as he guided her out of the room and into the hallway above the stairs. Gingerly, he helped her onto a bench nearby and squatted down in front of her, one palm curved over her knee as he looked up at her.

“Did you get hurt again?”

There was a sense of urgency in his voice and Claire felt a flush rise in her cheeks, a warmth that spilled across her skin so hotly that it rivaled the heat radiating from his palm. She shook her head, eyes fixed on the light fixture behind him to avoid looking him in the eyes.

“How did you know I was here?” She asked, voice a little hoarse, and Leon frowned hard.

“Sherry and I looked at the security camera feed from the parking garage and…” She felt his fingers twitch, his grip on her knee tightening, “I saw the Chief take you.”

Just the mere mention of the vile man made her heart skip a beat and goosebumps break out across her skin.

“He was a fucking psychopath.” She muttered, shivering as she recalled the phantom sensation of the cold, hard flesh of the less fortunate woman who had come before her.

“Was?” Leon’s tone was alarmed, “Did you _kill_ him?”

Claire shook her head.

“Not me...someone else.”

He stood abruptly, turning to peer over the edge of the bannister into the foyer below.

“They’re not here anymore.” Claire assured him.

When he turned back to her, she was leaned back against the wall with her eyes held closed. Her breath came in short, shallow pants and he watched the subtle rise and fall of her chest, her right hand pressed to her side. A light sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, nearly all of the exposed areas tarnished by grime and blood.

Leon felt it in his chest - a quick, sharp tug that seemingly wrenched his heart away from its normal position. He never should have let them get separated. Sending her to the parking garage was a mistake and all that had happened as a result of it was his burden to bear. Claire had been through enough without having to suffer on behalf of his shitty tactical skills.

Regret had a bitter taste, he learned, as it sat heavily on his tongue.

“Claire, I’m so sorry.” He managed, words breathy as he kneeled down in front of her again.

She opened her eyes to meet his, his light irises locked with her darker ones. Smudges of purple and red had begun to stain her jawline where Irons had gripped her face and he wasn’t sure which streaks of blood that caked her skin were her own. Despite the wounds, he could still make out the soft edges of her face and that faint smatter of freckles across her nose. He could remember how she looked when they first met and he knew that, under different circumstances, she would be stunning.

There was something heavy that hovered in the air between them and he took in a sharp breath, finding it difficult to breathe on account of the stifling nature of it. His hand found the side of her face, cupping it with ease, and she allowed her eyes to flutter closed once more as he trailed the rough pad of his thumb along the height of her cheek.

Claire could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Her chest felt tight and she leaned into his touch. Leon watched the tip of her tongue dart out to moisten her lips and he inhaled sharply when they remained parted. He felt a sense of responsibility for Claire, a sense of duty that differed from the debt he felt he owed Sherry. Leon wanted to protect her, to keep her out of harm’s way. He wanted to make her laugh, to help her forget about all the horrible things they had endured and help her move on in the aftermath. He wanted her to survive--with or without him--and he wasn’t sure he felt the same way about Sherry.

What he felt for Claire was different, _definitely_ , something more than the civil duty that had been ingrained in him at the academy.

Leon sighed as he closed his eyes, a battle raging in his mind. Though he wasn’t entirely sure of _what_ his feelings were, he knew they were inappropriate. Claire was wounded and scarred enough by the nightmare without him forcing himself on her. Hell, maybe she already had someone at home.

Before he could get carried away, he heard the door nearby slam with such force that it caught both of their attention. As Sherry made her way through the room, the light from the hallway cast long shadows on her figure, obscuring the view of her until she stepped back into the hallway.

Leon’s attention was immediately seized by the new spray of blood that had been splashed across the front of her uniform, a few droplets dried on the side of her neck.

“He was infected.” Sherry said plainly, wiping her bloodied palms off on the dark fabric of her shorts as though she hadn’t noticed his horrified expression.

Without further explanation, she pushed past the two of them, humming softly to herself as she descended the staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all. Thanks so much for all the support so far. Readers and creepy!Sherry are currently giving me life.
> 
> Until the next update, please check out **Xaori** 's latest fic, _Secrets (and other misunderstandings)_. It's a fun, sexy work about badass TerraSave Claire and super sniper Piers, but hear me out, okay? I seriously didn't know I needed Claire/Piers in my life until I read her fic and now I...think I ship it despite it being totally impossible in the canon. :p
> 
> Also, **onehelluvafirstdate** just put out a fic titled _Hey._ It's their first Cleon and a super sweet, quick read that's definitely worth your time if you have a few minutes to spare! :)


	8. Chapter 8

The way her wet socks squelched with each step that she took made her outwardly cringe and Sherry was more than ready to return to the dry warmth of the indoors. Outside of the orphanage, rain had begun to fall in fat, stinging pellets and she cupped a hand over her eyebrows to shield her eyes from the onslaught. The crisp chill of the September air made the weather all the more unbearable and she wrinkled her nose in distaste for the wholly unpleasant scenario she found herself in.

Claire let out a frustrated sigh that was barely audible above the torrential downpour and sprinted to the nearby bus for shelter. Sherry wasted no time in following suit, only hesitating to turn back to face Leon once she had already ascended the steps leading inside of the vehicle.

"It's raining too hard!" Sherry called out as she motioned with her hand for him to follow.

Taking perch on one of the seats, she watched Claire circle the Licker’s corpse with morbid interest. Claire’s lips were parted slightly in awe as she took note of the sharpness of its claws and she furrowed her brows together when she flipped its body over with her foot, revealing the gore of its partially mutilated brain. A visible shiver coursed through her and she shoved the fallen Licker out of the bus with a rough kick, promptly slamming the door shut after it thudded down the set of stairs.

Leon emulated her actions. With a grunt, he lifted the half-devoured corpse from the floor of the bus and dragged it by its arms towards the back exit. His disposal was less graceful than Claire’s and he stumbled down the steps, burdened by the weight of the body. Disgusted with it, he dropped it onto the pavement outside and returned to the bus, a little short of breath from exertion as he pulled the opposite door shut.

The trio fell into a moment of silence as they listened to the sound of the rain patter against the metal roof.

Claire sat opposite of Sherry and tilted her head back to rest against the cool windowpane. She felt absolutely _disgusting_ despite the moment of reprieve. Her wet hair was plastered to her face and neck and her equally damp clothes clung to her like a second skin. It seemed as though she were perpetually haunted by the scent of blood and rot and she began to wonder if _she_ had somehow become the source of the stench.

Her side still ached with a sharp, stabbing throb that sobered her to the reality of the situation. Adrenaline was a powerful hormone in its ability to mask pain, but moments of stillness like this reminded her just how fucked she potentially was. It seemed possible that she was only a couple of injuries away from disaster and she swallowed hard at the thought of herself with clouded over eyes, grey flesh, and a hankering for human flesh.

She twisted in her seat to stare out the window, the image beyond blurred by the cascade of rain that ran along the surface of the glass. A hunched over figure in the distance stumbled just outside of the reach of the cool glow of the street lamp, but she didn’t need to make out the details to know it was one of _them._ Though she knew it was impossible, a wistful part of her wished so desperately that she’d catch a glimpse of Chris sprinting by in hunt for her after having somehow caught wind of her presence in Raccoon City.

“What if it doesn’t let up?” Sherry contemplated aloud and Leon cleared his throat to fill the silence that followed.

“Then we push through it.” He stated resolutely.

Sherry sighed and leaned forward to rest her arms on her knees. With a pout, she cradled her face in her hands as she mumbled, "I hate having wet socks."

Claire laughed softly to herself. Sherry's commentary offered a refreshing, albeit fleeting, sense of normalcy in the midst of the chaos. She was enjoying the cursory moment of reprieve that the bus offered despite knowing that it wouldn’t last.

"Hey, Claire?" Sherry locked eyes with the woman after addressing her, "Are you a cop like Leon?"

"No," she said, shaking her head, "But my brother is."

Sherry paused thoughtfully as though debating whether or not to press further, but ultimately succumbed to her curiosity.

"Where is he?" She asked quietly.

Claire smiled remorsefully and raised a shoulder in a half-shrug.

"One of the other police officers said he's here. He's trying to get to the radio tower to call for help." Her voice trailed off as she suddenly became cognizant of the realization that there may no longer be any help to call.

"He's S.T.A.R.S." Claire quickly added and recognition flashed through Sherry's eyes.

"I've heard of S.T.A.R.S. before," she stared past Claire as she pondered the origin of the term, "From my dad, I think."

Claire's eyebrows rose at the mention of her father.

"Is your dad a cop?" She asked and Sherry shook her head.

"No, but he is friends with Mr. Irons." She wrinkled her nose as she corrected herself, " _Was_ friends with Mr. Irons."

Claire shivered at the recollection of how it had felt to plunge the knife into the creature Sherry claimed to be her father. The ease with which it cleaved through the aqueous flesh of the eyeball in its arm was disturbing and she cringed at the phantom sensation. Her urge to take a scalding hot shower was suddenly stronger than ever and she rubbed her palms together in an attempt to dispel the memory of the eyeball being pierced by the knife.

"Sherry…" Claire leaned forward to bring herself closer to the girl, "What happened to your father?"

Sherry hesitated to respond. Her attention shifted to a stray thread that dangled from the frayed edge of her vest and she began to absentmindedly pick at it. Sensing her discomfort, Leon cleared his throat in order to catch her attention and smiled.

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, Sherry.” He assured her and Claire nodded in agreement.

Sherry emphatically shook her head, causing more pale locks to escape the messy bun she wore. Nervously, she wiped her palms on the legs of her shorts and inhaled sharply.

“My dad works for Umbrella.”

She stared hard at the empty space between Claire and Leon as she spoke.

“ _Worked,_ I mean. Sorry...it’s hard to get used to it.”

Her words violently tugged at Claire’s heartstrings. Though her parents had passed away over a decade ago, she could still vividly remember the challenge of referring to them in the past tense. As a kid, speaking about her parents that way somehow made the permanence of death much more tangible and she had done her best to avoid it for the longest time.

_“Your parents were wonderful people, Chris. I’m so sorry that this happened.”_

_Five-year-old Claire furrowed her brow at the older couple as her grip on Chris’s hand tightened. She knew that they lived next door, but not much else. Why were they sorry? Why were they talking about mom and dad like that?_

_“Yeah.” Chris’s voice cracked with both emotion and the hints of puberty that had just begun to bloom._

_The couple exchanged looks with one another before the man leaned over to place a hand on Chris’s shoulder._

_“It’ll be alright, son. Your parents are watching over you now.”_

_Claire pursed her lips in thought. How were her parents watching them if they weren’t there? Where were they anyway? Chris said they weren’t coming home._

_“It’s_ **_okay_** _?”_

_The sound of her brother’s laughter made her uncomfortable. Claire didn’t understand what was happening, but it didn’t seem like a good time to laugh._

_“It’s not okay. It’s not ever gonna be okay.” Chris spat, eyes like fire as he glared at the man who hovered in the doorway._

_The man opened his mouth to speak, but Chris reached for the doorknob and stepped forward, chest puffed out as he continued to sum up the man with his stare._

_“It sucks. Our parents are dead and no amount of ‘I’m sorries’ can fix that.” He swung the door closed, but caught it halfway to poke his head out once more._

_“It just sucks. That’s it. Our parents are dead and it sucks. Saying I’m sorry doesn’t help anyone.”_

_And then the door slammed closed so harshly that the photos on the wall nearby rattled. Chris leaned with his back against the door, breaths coming in ragged, angry pants as he held his eyes closed._

_“Are...mommy and daddy okay?” Claire asked, suddenly feeling strangely small for reasons she couldn’t describe._

_“No, Claire.” Chris said, annoyed, “Mommy and daddy aren’t okay because mommy and daddy just_ **_aren’t_ ** _anymore, okay?”_

_Claire frowned hard. What did that mean?_

_“I don’t get it.” She mumbled, cheeks burning._

_Chris stomped his foot angrily._

_“It means mommy and daddy are dead, Claire! It means they’re never coming home! It means it’s just you and me now, okay? It’s just you and me and all these stupid people think saying sorry is going to make it better, but it’s not going to make it better, okay?!” His face was red, eyes glistening with tears that threatened to fall._

_“It means no more cartoons with dad on Saturday morning,” his voice had grown soft, “And no more having fun with mom while he’s at work. We’re never going to get to see them again, okay?”_ _  
_

_Claire looked over at the family portrait on the wall._

_“Never ever?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper as she felt a tear run down her cheek._

_“Never.” Chris managed to choke out between sobs. “Because mom and dad aren’t alive anymore, Claire. Mom and dad are dead.”_

Claire bit the inside of her cheek in order to distract herself from the memory.

“He was working on a special project...the G-Virus,” she clenched her fists tightly, taking fistfuls of fabric in hand as her voice began to tremble, “It was all he cared about. More than me and mom even.”

Briefly, Leon and Claire glanced at one another before returning their focus to the girl.

“I guess Umbrella was going to take it away from him and it made him mad. He told my mom that no one could have it except him and then…”

She pointed to the crook of her arm with her index finger and maneuvered her thumb, mimicking the action of pressing the plunger of a syringe.

Another uncomfortable pause ensued. Leon spoke first.

“Sherry, I’m so sorry that happened to you and your family.”

Sherry gave him a hard look.

“Why are _you_ sorry? You didn’t do it.” She quipped, annoyed by his sympathy.

Leon faltered as he attempted to respond, "Well, yeah, but…"

“That really sucks, Sherry.” Claire interrupted, “That sucks a lot.”

Sherry’s eyes widened at Claire’s words, but a small, subtle hint of a smile soon surfaced on her mouth as she curled the corners of her lips into a wry smirk.

“Yeah,” she breathed, “It does suck.”

Claire moved across the aisle to sit beside Sherry. Gingerly, she placed her hands on her shoulders and maneuvered her so that she faced away and Claire undid the tie in Sherry’s hair, causing wet strands of hair to fall free and tangle down her back.

“My parents died when I was little.” Claire confessed as she raked her fingers through Sherry’s hair, working out the knots.

She began to work Sherry’s hair into braids.

“It’s not the same, but I remember how it felt. It sucked even more than zombies.”

Tucking the braids behind Sherry’s ears, Claire joined them in a loose knot at the nape of her neck and secured it with the elastic band. Satisfied with her work, she rose from the bench to stand and extended her arms upwards as she angled her back in a stretch, aware of Leon’s eyes on her frame. She gave him a crooked smile and peered out the window again, ensuring nothing had snuck up on them.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, nodding towards the gash across his chest and the uneven droop of one of his shoulders.

Leon looked down at himself and shrugged.

“I’m alright,” He stood quickly and placed his hands on her shoulders as he searched for any signs of worsening injury, “Are _you_ alright?”

From the opposite end of the bus, Sherry made an exaggerated gagging noise.

“I thought you said she’s _not_ your girlfriend.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke accusingly to Leon.

In response, the telltale red stain of a flush began to spill across his cheeks.

“She’s not, I ju--”

A loud shatter of glass drowned out his words as the bus was suddenly jerked. Claire spun around to wrap an arm around Sherry and pulled her close against her body, cradling her defensively as she gripped one of the poles nearby with her opposite hand. Before she had enough time to steady herself, the bus lurched sideways and toppled onto the ground with a deafeningly loud crash.

Claire let out a grunt as she landed atop shattered glass of a window. One of her legs had gotten caught in the railing beside the bench and was twisted at an uncomfortable angle and she hissed as she attempted to free herself from the position. Sherry was safely curled up against her chest and clutched at the front of her shirt, eyes wide in stunned surprise.

“Claire!” Leon coughed and attempted to untangle himself from the bench he had unceremoniously landed on.

The loud stomping that seemed to tread closer with each unrefined step tore Claire back to reality. With a sudden burst of strength, she sat upwards despite Sherry’s weight.

“We have to go _now!”_ She urged, moving to stand and pulling Sherry to her own feet despite the aching of her body.

The metal of the emergency exit door at the back of the bus groaned as it was torn off its hinges and dropped onto the floor. Just as she had feared, Claire peered down the length of the bus to find the heavy-fisted creature from before.

“Leon!” She screamed while pointing past him at the monster. “Move!”

Leon ducked down low and rolled forward in time to avoid a sloppy swing from the behemoth. Glass crunched beneath him as he tumbled across the shattered window and when he moved to stand before her, Claire could make out the shards of glass embedded in the back of his uniform. Leon drew his pistol and aimed at the creature.

“Go!” He yelled, “I’ll hold it off!”

Claire snatched Sherry by the hand and sprinted to the front end of the bus. Furiously, she began to kick at the windshield and watched it splinter and crack in weblike patterns with each forward swing of her foot. The shots that came from Leon’s handgun were deafening in the small space and she let out a quiet cry of frustration as she gave a particularly hard kick, causing the glass to shatter into bits.

She first pushed Sherry through and climbed out behind her, scraping her knee on a shard of glass on the way out. Faintly, she was aware of the sting and the rush of blood down the front of her shin, but was too preoccupied with the frantic search for a weapon to assess the damage she had taken. Both the rain and the clouds that blocked out the moonlight made it difficult to take in her surroundings and she stumbled through the street, turning back for a moment to watch Leon swiftly pull himself out of the bus and through the broken windshield.

“Claire!”

Sherry pointed towards a seemingly dead cop splayed out on the sidewalk. Claire wasted no time in approaching it and snatching the pistol from the holster on its hip. As soon as she jerked it free from its holster, the officer sat upwards with a shriek and reached towards her. One glimpse at the dead expression in its eyes was enough for her to quickly aim at its face and pull the trigger, causing the corpse to lifelessly fall back to the ground.

The trench coat-clad monster was stomping after Leon in the open space, hands curled into fists as it beelined for him. Claire cursed under her breath and shot at it, drawing its attention after the third round pierced its back.

It pivoted on one foot and redirected its course towards her.

“Claire, no!” Leon sprinted after it and leapt into the air, wrapping his arms around its neck and forcing himself to dangle along its back. “Take Sherry and run!”

Claire watched in horror as the creature spun around, jerking its shoulders left and right in an attempt to free itself from Leon’s grip. Her heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears as she sprinted back and forth, looking for _anything_ at all to help the situation.

“Claire, _please!”_ Leon screamed, grunting as he tightened his grip on the monster. “Get out of here!”

“Claire! Over here!”

To her left, Sherry was slipping between the gaps in a grate on the front of a sewer pipe as she frantically waved for Claire to follow.

“Claire!”

“ _Claire!”_

Her mind was numb as she dumbly stood in the street, rain obstructing her vision as it splashed into her eyes.

“Claire!”

She felt her lips part to speak, but no words came.

“Claire! Go!”

Claire watched as the creature reached behind to seize Leon by the back of his shirt and toss him onto the ground.

“ _CLAIRE!”_

She couldn’t feel her own legs as Sherry’s small hand encircled hers and tugged her towards the drainage pipe.

“Claire! I’ll be fine!”

The bottom fell out of her stomach as she watched Leon roll onto his side and open fire on the monster.

“I’ll meet up with you!”

“Leon, I’m so--”

 _“It just sucks. That’s it.”_ Chris’s voice echoed from somewhere in the back of her mind. _“Saying sorry isn’t going to fix anything.”_

She couldn’t tell if the darkness that enveloped her was that of the sewers or the result of a loss of consciousness.

_“It’s not okay. It’s not ever gonna be okay.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much! I'm humbled by all the new followers of this fic and appreciate every kudos, bookmark, comment, and subscription more than I can express. June has been a rough month, but I hope I'm back into the swing of things now.
> 
> A major thanks to my fanfic wife, Xaori, for all the encouragement, beta-reading, and mutual RE2 remake bashing. <3 She has some really great fics to check out. _Secrets (and other misunderstandings)_ is my personal favorite so far.


	9. Chapter 9

His lungs burned.

With each ragged breath that he took, Leon was reminded of just how badly he needed to practice cardio once this zombie apocalypse nonsense was all said and done with. He'd never been one to enjoy running and scraped by with bare minimum performance in the academy. He had always assumed that he had plenty of time to learn how to love cardio and, goodness, was he paying for it now.

Looking back over his shoulder, Leon wasn't surprised to find that the dark, looming figure continued to stalk him. Returning his attention to the path in front of him, he took in a shaky breath and clenched his eyes closed, begging his aching legs to pick up speed. His body obeyed and he huffed as the fire in his muscles grew hotter.

Where was he going? He wasn't sure, but he had to have been close. He'd be alright. Just a  _little_ further.

The pavement was slick and he took extra precaution not to slip as he sprinted through the dark, barren streets of the city. A few of the undead lingered, but it appeared that most had relocated elsewhere. The back streets were far different than the main strip of road beside the station that teemed with hordes upon hordes of zombies and he was strangely grateful for it despite the presence of the...punchy thing.

Tossing his head back to tilt his face towards the drizzling sky, he took in another painful respiration. If he could just get enough distance between himself and the monster, perhaps he could manage to make it into the sewers unscathed. He could meet up with Claire and Sherry and they could finally get the hell out of the shitshow that Raccoon City had become.

The stomping of its boots against the cement was relentless. The steady, loud cadence kept him on edge. Leon couldn't stand the sweat that slicked his palms and the hair that stood on the back of his neck at the sound of it. Just a  _little_  further and maybe he could escape.

Looping around the buildings, he searched for a drainage pipe similar to the one Claire and Sherry had shimmied into. In the distance, he could make out the outline of the round opening of a pipe through the rain and he felt a second wind overtake him. Taking in a deep breath, he picked up speed and diverted his course off of the road and towards the sewer entrance.

The shoulder of the road sloped downwards for several feet before the earth leveled out at the entrance of the drain. Given the steepness of the hill and the run-off of the rain, most of the grass had been eroded away and the decline had become a sodden mess of mud and rock. Leon came to a halt at the edge of the road and surveyed the terrain for the seemingly safest route downward.

That stomping, though; it persisted. He glanced back over his shoulder and cursed under his breath at the proximity of the monster. Leon had misjudged his speed and the distance that had been created between himself and his stalker. There was no time to hesitate.

With a sigh, he took the plunge. The soles of his boots sunk down into the soft dirt and he struggled to maintain his balance as he slid, wavering back and forth as he picked up speed. Just as he reached the base of the hill, he struck something hard with the toe of his boot and stumbled forward.

Leon tumbled to the ground and let out an anguished groan as a burning sensation tore through his left shoulder. Using his right forearm, he pushed himself away from the ground just far enough to be able to survey the damage he had sustained. A metal, rod-like object was impaled in the anterior side of his shoulder, just above his armpit, though it didn't seem to have gone clean through to the opposite side.

Fuck.

He looked back up at the road to see the monster glare down at him and he felt a sense of urgency. With his single arm, he struggled to rise back to his feet and flicked his drenched hair from his eyes with a quick shake of his head. The pipe was only a few meters away and he wasted no time in taking shelter within it, clicking on his flashlight to illuminate his way.

The damp, rotten stench of the pipeline made him grimace. A stream of dirty water slowly passed along the base of the pipe and he did his best to keep from stepping in it, though his boots and socks were already unpleasantly drenched through. His shoulder was throbbing and aching and he cradled his elbow with his opposite hand in an attempt to relieve some of the weight.

The pipe emptied out into open water that reeked of decay. Swallowing hard, he looked back over his shoulder to ensure he wasn't being followed and let out a long, dejected sigh. He saw no alternative.

Dropping into the water, he let out a hiss as the cold water seeped into his boots and clothes. Leon was submerged to just above the knee and, as he waded through the water, he took special care to not pay attention to the questionable objects that floated along its surface. If he was splashing about in a cesspool of feces, he preferred not to know.

The water's edge led to another downward descent into a presumably deeper pit of putrid water. This drop seemed to be steeper, but the presence of the water below would hopefully lessen the force of his landing. Leon opted to hold his breath as he leapt into the pool below, not particularly keen on the possibility of getting a mouthful of sewage along the way.

With a loud splash, he dropped into the water below. Upon standing, he found that it rose just above his navel and he cringed at the sensation of his saturated clothes clinging against his body. Still, he had no choice but to persevere.

The tunnel was dark and the reflection of his flashlight's beam along the surface of the water was unsettling. With each step that he took, the water sloshed about, and Leon suddenly became anxious about what might lie below the shadows of the murky water. Considering the things he had encountered above ground, the possibilities seemed endless.

Before his imagination could get the best of him, Leon decided he didn't want to know. All that mattered was hurrying through and reuniting with Claire and Sherry. He continued to trudge along the stretch of the sewer until he recognized a ledge far off at the end of the tunnel. The platform was attached to a staircase that traveled upwards and Leon let out a sigh of relief.

His excitement had almost made him forget about the status of the city. As he hurried towards the exit, the water violently sloshed about and a figure erupted from its surface. The zombie was hunched over and its pale skin was bloated and wrinkled from the time it had spent looming beneath the water. Its wet, stringy hair was plastered to the sides of its face and the soft tissue of its lips was blistered and peeling. It staggered forward with a groan to expose its yellow teeth and Leon drew his weapon swiftly to deposit a bullet in its face.

It shrieked and reared back as a chunk of soggy tissue fell from its skull and loudly plopped into the water. He grimaced at the sight, but continued to unload on the monster. One bullet pierced its shoulder, forcing it to stumble back, and then another bored into its face and the zombie fell backwards into the depths of the sewage.

Leon took advantage of the moment and hurried to the water's edge, gracelessly hoisting himself up with his one arm. He scraped his knee against the edge of the cement ledge and hissed at the sensation as he leaned into the wall to rise onto his feet.

The stairwell ahead was dark, illuminated by a single flickering bulb that suspended from the ceiling. He could hear the soft clinking of a winged insect furiously diving into the light and madly colliding against the glass of the bulb as the splashing of water from the zombie faded in the distance. Water dripped onto the cement with each step that he took and the constrictive weight of his wet clothes made movement a struggle.

He eventually found a rickety lift that he hadn't expected to work, but he was pleasantly surprised when he mashed the cracked, plastic face of the button and was suspended upwards into the air. As the mechanical gears in the lift whined, he pondered what could potentially lie in wait for him at the top of the elevator shaft. Zombies, lickers, that eyeball arm bastard that Sherry claimed to be her father, the asshole with the impressively hard punch…

What he didn't expect was to end up on the receiving end of a freshly cocked pistol.

Instantly, he threw his hands in the air in a surrender, the left not quite rising to full height on account of his injury.

"Don't shoot." He pleaded, not entirely certain that his words carried any weight to the stranger. "I'm not one of  _them_."

The woman lowered her gun with a sigh of relief and Leon relaxed as he dropped his hands to a resting position. The first thing he noticed about her was just how exhausted she appeared to have been given the dark, sunken in half-circles that dulled her light blue eyes. Her straw-colored hair was messily pulled into a loose ponytail that hung over her shoulder and cascaded in waves that draped over the front of the white lab coat that she wore.

She turned away and dropped her weapon into her pocket as she approached the metal door across the room. With her hands pressed to its surface, she peered through the window positioned at the top of the door.

"I'm Leon." He awkwardly offered, stepping off the lift and into the apparent work room.

"Annette."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, veiling the small room like a blanket. Leon approached one of the work stations nearby and dragged his finger through the thick layer of dust and grime that coated its surface. It seemed as though the area hadn't been used in a while, but someone had searched through the drawers given the state of disarray. Tools and random knick knacks were strewn about the opposite table.

"Have you seen a woman?" Leon asked, "Auburn hair, traveling with a young girl."

Annette looked back at him over her shoulder and shook her head.

"Have you seen my daughter?" She echoed, "Blonde hair, about this tall."

Annette gestured the height with her hand and Leon felt something catch in his chest. What were the odds that Sherry could have been her daughter? She was roughly the same height and fit the vague description, but she hadn't ever mentioned her mother.

"What's her name?" He questioned, punctuating the inquisition by holding his breath.

She gave him a curious look, but responded anyway.

"Sherry."

The breath he was holding escaped in a near gasp.

"She's with the woman I mentioned."

Annette whirled around to face him, lips parted in both surprise and question. Her eyes darted back and forth as she studied him intently, taking in his form and the details of his face as if attempting to determine if he was trustworthy based solely on his appearance. The flitting of her gaze eventually halted at the level of his shoulder where the metal rod jutted out in a grotesque way.

"Where are they?"

Her voice was icy and Leon wondered what he had done to deserve the cold treatment.

"I...they're down here somewhere. I'm trying to find them so we can get out of the city." He spoke softly as if attempting to persuade her into something.

Annette frowned and leaned up against the door with her arms folded across her chest.

"You can come with us." Leon urged, but Annette shook her head.

"I have some business to attend to."

He couldn't comprehend her statement. What sort of mother would willingly remain in the city when her daughter's life was at stake? It was no wonder that Sherry hadn't mentioned her before.

"But...it's not safe." Leon attempted to convince her, but Annette only gave him a wry smile.

"Trust me. I know."

She gestured towards his injured shoulder.

"I can help you with that...so long as you promise to get my daughter out of Raccoon City."

Leon's eyes widened as he was stricken into silence by the comment. Was Annette truly suggesting that she would not reunite with her daughter? She would rather entrust her care to a complete  _stranger_  than personally ensure her safety?

It made very little sense in his mind.

"Annette, I don't un-"

"Please," She interjected, "Help my daughter."

Leon found it difficult to deny her. If her parents were going to let her down, Sherry deserved to be able to depend on him at the very least.

Assuming she was safe, that is.

Of  _course_  she was safe. She was with Claire, wasn't she? Claire was more than capable of defending Sherry. Given the linear layout of the sewer, it was only a matter of time before they were reunited again. He would find them.

He  _had_  to.

* * *

Leon grunted as Annette carefully extracted the object from his shoulder. He watched with a morbid interest as blood began to ooze from the puncture wound, but Annette made quick work of stitching up the entry point. Though he had been fortunate enough to have a topical anesthetic on board to numb the pain, the sensation of the pressure of the needle driving through his flesh made him cringe.

From the moment she retrieved the metal rod, he had felt lightheaded. The harder he stared at her ministrations, the more blurry his vision became, and he blinked rapidly to clear his visual. Taking a moment to sit made him realize just how exhausted he was, but he did his best to will away the weight that lingered in his eyelids. He didn't have time to spare.

"You should follow up with a physician once you're safe." She advised as she secured the site with gauze.

Leon nodded, his mind feeling a little hazy. He leaned back into the wall of the small monitor room. Perhaps he had begun to drift off, but that didn't seem to be the case. Just as quickly as his eyes fluttered closed, a loud slam of a door reverberated through the area, and he ripped his eyes open to find himself faced with a pistol.

And a  _woman_.

About six feet away, a woman stood with a handgun trained on both of them. Her dark hair was cropped just at the level of her chin and she maintained a stoic expression as her light brown eyes met his. She cocked her head to the side curiously before diverting her attention to Annette with a sneer.

"Well, well, Annette. You sure are difficult to track down."

Leon turned his head to the side to find Annette standing nearby, her own weapon drawn.

"What do you want?"

It seemed that Annette was acquainted with the woman given the vitriol in her voice.

The woman laughed and Leon felt something in his chest flutter at the elegant, feminine charm of it. The air of confidence that surrounded her and the ease with which she handled the Beretta suggested that she was far more than a civilian and his interest was piqued.

With narrowed eyes, she glanced over at Leon.

"He's not involved." Annette quickly interjected.

A small smile formed on the woman's painted lips and she gave him a quick wink before looking to Annette once more.

"G." She simply said.

Leon spoke up.

"What's going on here?"

Before Annette had a chance to explain, the other woman reached into the pocket of her trench coat and retrieved a small badge wallet that fell open to reveal her badge and identification.

"Ada Wong. FBI."

Leon felt a sense of relief wash over him, but it was, of course, short-lived as Ada continued to speak.

"And I'm simply trying to apprehend the woman responsible for all of this."

It felt as though the pit of his stomach had fallen out. Spurred by her betrayal, he pulled his own pistol and twisted to face Annette. With his finger trained on the trigger, he prepared himself to shoot.

What the hell was wrong with Sherry's parents?

"Explain."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh nooo, Leon is already thirsting for Ada. Who saw that coming? Woooowwww.
> 
> Sorry for the delay, everyone. Please feel free to follow my tumblr (irithyll-writes) for news and updates related to all my dumb fics. I've also started a Chris-centric S.T.A.R.S. fic called Roll the Bones if anyone is interested. As always, thanks to Xaori for helping with this chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

It took everything in her to keep from hollering as she dropped into the sewer below. The water was surprisingly cold and easily seeped through the thick fabric of her jeans, causing her to cringe as the material clung to her with each movement that she made. Claire's face twisted into an expression of disgust, but she quickly forced herself to smile as she turned back to Sherry.

"We'll be alright." Claire said softly as she moved to stand beside the ledge Sherry had taken refuge on. Slowly, she turned away from the girl and rounded her back as she lowered herself further into the water. "I'll carry you."

Sherry furrowed her brow. The prospect of sloshing around in the dirty water wasn't attractive, but she didn't want to make Claire carry her, either. Though, given the height of the water, she assumed that she was bound to get a mouthful of it at some point during their travel and she wasn't particularly keen on contracting a disease, either.

"I'm sorry, Claire." She spoke in earnest as she placed her hands on the woman's shoulders and hoisted herself upwards.

Claire grunted slightly as Sherry's weight settled against her. She crossed her ankles at the front of Claire's chest in an attempt to maintain balance on her shoulders and Claire paused for a moment as she rifled through the pouch on her leg.

"Do you know how to shoot?" Claire asked as she popped open the cylinder of her revolver to ensure that it was loaded to its capacity.

Sherry swallowed hard.

"No, but it can't be that hard."

Claire laughed as she held up the gun, offering it to Sherry handle first.

"Atta girl." She commended as she pulled out another handgun and kept it within her own grip. "Just remember - don't put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to shoot."

The water sloshed loudly as Claire made her way along the tunnel. The sound echoed eerily off the concrete walls and Claire remained extraordinarily vigilant, eyes narrowed as she scanned the water for any sign of movement that wasn't her own. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she envisioned a rotten hand enveloping the circumference of her ankle and yanking her under the murky water and it made her shudder.

A groan drifted through the stale air and Claire abruptly paused in an attempt to discern the distance from which it came. The only audible sounds were the gentle rippling of the water and their shared, ragged breathing as Claire strained to listen for the dead. The sudden silence was discerning and, for a moment, Claire wondered if it had simply been an auditory hallucination.

A loud splash caused her to whip around quickly and she watched in horror as a body rose from beneath the water. Its grey flesh was bloated and malleable, soft tissue falling away from bone as it jerked forward. The zombie's hair was plastered to its face and its eyes were clouded over, leaving no sign of life behind. A gunshot came and its head jerked backwards, all movement ceasing as it stiffened and fell back into the water.

Sherry's hands trembled as she held the gun, but she didn't dare speak.

"Nice shot."

If she felt something flutter in her chest, she couldn't be sure as to why. She mumbled a thanks, lowering her head as they continued onward through the stagnant, rancid sewer. Luckily for Claire, the effects of the acrid smell began to fade as she became accustomed to the rot that surrounded them. Her sense of direction, however, had not improved. With each turn that she made, Claire found herself wondering if they had somehow made a circular trajectory through the underground paths.

"It all looks the same." She grumbled, pausing to peer out into the darkness that laid ahead.

Sherry pursed her lips as she studied their surroundings in the dim yellow light.

"I think we're near the monitor room." Sherry concluded as she found some semblance of familiarity in the cracks of the tunnel's walls.

Claire shifted the girl's weight on her shoulders and exhaled slowly, taking a moment to muster up the strength to clear the final stretch of tunnel. At the end, she found an exit from the water and was relieved at the sight of the cement staircase ahead. She took care in depositing Sherry onto the ledge nearby, kneeling down into the water despite her best wishes to lower the girl closer to its surface.

A loud splash echoed throughout the tunnel and Claire leaned forward, letting Sherry hop off of her shoulders and onto the dry ledge. She turned around quickly in search for the source of the splash, but saw nothing as far as she could see. Claire turned back to Sherry in time for her to watch her eyes to go wide as something snatched her by the ankle from beneath the water.

Claire thrashed about, throwing her arms through the water's surface in an attempt to grasp any sort of leverage. From below, she wasn't able to see anything on account of the dark, murky appearance of the sewer water. Despite her flailing, the grip on her ankle did not falter. Claire twisted and turned, doing her best to keep her mouth firmly held closed to avoid taking in a mouthful of the filthy water. She was growing dizzy as she kicked as hard as she could with her unrestrained leg, finally bringing her foot into contact with something solid nearby.

The hold on her relented and Claire broke the surface of the water with a loud, strangled gasp. Sherry screamed from nearby as the creature rose from the water - red, pink, and bulbous in appearance. Claire squinted as she wiped the water from her eyes in an attempt to discern what she was up against.

She didn't know what the hell she was looking at. Fleshy, tumor-like blobs bobbed in the water as the hulking mass of  _something_  darted towards her. She quickly open fired on it - once, twice, a third time - but it didn't seem affected. Suddenly, it reached out towards her, grabbing her with a strong, tendon-like appendage and holding her in place.

Claire struggled in its grasp as its face drew close to hers. It had once been human, she supposed, given the structure of its head. She swung at it with a closed fist, but it did no good. Instead, she watched in horror as its face separated, giving way to a fleshy, tooth-lined opening that seemed to be a mouth. She had expected it to bite her or perhaps swallow her whole given the way saliva freely leaked from its membranes. Pulling back one of her arms in a defensive position to shield her face, Claire continued to blindly unload the contents of her revolver into the creature. The creature shrieked and its neck twisted as it came in closer proximity.

Suddenly, it  _vomited_  on her. Claire found herself dredged with a white, creamy fluid that began to scald her the moment it made contact with her skin. Within seconds, the burning sensation became unbearable, and she instinctively dropped back into the water in an attempt to wash it from her skin.

Gunshots fired from above the water as she slapped at her skin that had been exposed to the creature's bodily fluids. It stomped past her, kicking up water and forming bubbles as it moved, and Claire felt her heart skip a beat at the prospect of it going after Sherry. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she rose from the water and jumped onto the monster's back as it ambled by.

It screeched as she wrapped an arm around its neck for leverage and, with her free hand, she drew her knife and delved it through its shoulder. Pustules popped, spraying her with more of the caustic fluid, but she continued her assault. She drove in and out with the knife, grunting and gasping through the pain. As the monster shifted back and forth in an attempt to knock her off its back, she caught a glimpse of a familiar feature within the creature's flesh - the large orange sclera of an eyeball that flitted about.

She speared it with her knife and the monster let out a loud, bone-chilling scream. It fell forward onto a knee as it writhed about before stiffening and collapsing into the water. As it propelled forward in its fall, Claire was thrust off of its back and once more into the sewage below. The force within which that she was thrown caused her to land particularly hard, catching herself on her palms and scraping them against the floor of the sewer tunnel.

Claire stood on shaky legs, bringing her hands upward to observe the blood that trickled from her palms. Her vision became blurry and she blinked hard in an attempt to clear it, but to no avail. She looked up at Sherry and found that she was nothing but a blue and blonde smudge across the opposite side of the tunnel.

"Claire!"

She stepped forward, the water suddenly feeling more akin to quicksand as she attempted to trudge through it. Making a small sound of frustration, she forced herself to take another agonizingly difficult step, wincing all the while. Her joints felt tender and her mind was foggy as she reached forward to grab the edge of the ledge but, given her obscured vision, her hand fell short and she stumbled. Sherry reached down to snatch Claire's hand and guide her towards the edge of the ledge.

"Are you okay?" She asked, voice trembling with concern.

Claire nodded her head, finding that her mouth was far too dry to form speech. She looked in Sherry's direction and forced a smile as she clambered up out of the water. Pressing a palm to the wall nearby, she leaned into it as she found her footing. Her heart was racing with the minor movement and she pressed a hand to her side, the pain far too great for her to stand entirely upright. Hunched over and limping, Claire began the chore of ascending the staircase.

Sherry rushed past her and came to a halt, blocking her passage.

"Claire, you are  _not_  okay!"

Claire held in a laugh. She knew damn well that she wasn't alright, but it was the last thing Sherry needed to hear. All she needed to do was find Leon in order to endorse the care of Sherry to him. Only then, after Sherry's safety was ensured, would she allow herself to die.

Why did she care so much about the girl?

She fell into a coughing spell that worsened the tightening in her side. Claire covered her mouth with her hand as she gasped for air and felt something hot splatter against her palm after a particularly violent cough. Though her vision was imperfect, she was able to make out the shape of the dark red smear that stained her palm, and she wondered if she'd make it long enough to rendezvous with Leon after all.

"Those monsters…" Sherry muttered, "They're...poisonous. You must be poisoned."

Claire didn't inquire further - not because she was disinterested, but because she physically  _couldn't._  She stumbled to the next step, keeping a hand braced against the wall to maintain her balance, but the world seemed to be shifting beneath her feet. Swallowing hard, she nodded her head, an action that amplified her dizziness so much that she wavered on her feet. She could only imagine what Chris would have to say to her now.

_Claire, you stupid asshole. What the fuck were you thinking? I told you_ _ **not**_   _to come._

She smiled bitterly to herself as Sherry took hold of her hand to help lead her up the steps.

"Sherry, I…" She coughed. "I don't think I'm gonna make it."

She felt Sherry tug hard on her hand.

"You're being stupid." Sherry chided. "I can get you help. There's a cable car here that leads directly to NEST."

Eventually, they stumbled upon a particularly bright room. Sherry led Claire to a chair, easing her down into it to ensure she didn't fall. Claire all but collapsed into the chair, chest heaving and sweat dripping down the back of her neck from exertion.

"You wait here." Sherry insisted. "I'm going to make sure the path to the cable car is clear."

Claire hissed as a sharp pain ran through her.

"What is...NEST?" She managed to ask between gritted teeth.

"It's the lab where my mom works. There's medication there that will reverse the poison."

She didn't have the strength to probe for details. The pain was nearly unbearable, fire seemingly licking at each nerve ending in her body. Her breathing was accelerated and labored, the recoil of her chest having become so forceful that it irritated the rib injuries she had sustained earlier. The way her soaked clothes clung to her body was bothersome and disgusting and she was sure she smelled like shit and poisonous monster puke.

"Leon?"

It was the best she could manage and Claire could practically hear Sherry's eye roll from across the room.

"I'll leave him a note. We can't wait for him or you'll  _die._ "

Fuck. Fuck, fuck,  _fuck._  Claire knew Sherry was right, but she didn't want to accept it. She knew Leon wouldn't hold it against her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was abandoning him. If the roles had been reversed, Leon would have waited for her. Hell, Leon probably would have searched for her...

...and he probably wouldn't have gotten puked on by some asshole with bad breath.

She felt tears sting at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Claire made an earnest attempt to control her breathing as she leaned back into the chair and nodded her head.

"Alright." She whispered.

"I'm going to lock and barricade this door." Sherry motioned to the door they entered through, an action that Claire could decipher in her state. "And I'm going to block this one off from the other side so I can get back in."

Claire could only manage to grunt in response as she leaned over to vomit on the floor.

* * *

The door swung closed with a strange sense of finality. Sherry leaned against it, reveling in the feeling of the cold steel against her heated skin as she took a moment of reprieve. Her heart rate began to slow as she focused on the gentle run of the water below and the coolness of the metal beneath her fingertips.

She wasn't sure she could pull this off. Though she had ridden the cable car to and from NEST multiple times, her travel had never been complicated by the walking dead. She had seen creatures before,  _dozens_  of them, but they had all been safely secured within the captivity of Umbrella's lab. They hadn't seemed quite as menacing back then while chemically restrained behind tempered glass.

Looking down at her hands, she noted the way they trembled as she held the revolver in a white-knuckled grip. Shooting a gun wasn't hard, so why was she shaking so much? It's not like she was killing anyone. Everything was  _technically_  already dead and it was a kill or be killed scenario.

Survival of the fittest - her father had discussed it with her once. Charles Darwin. Natural selection. Something, something. That's what this was, wasn't it? Science. Biology. Whatever.

She wondered if this was the type of science her father had truly intended to do. Was this the legacy her father had yearned for? Rotten flesh, hideous tumors, noxious secretions, and lethal claws? It was all so disgusting.

She wrinkled her nose at the thought. Her father had become one of  _them_  by choice. He didn't have to infect himself with the virus, but he  _did._  Was he really that proud of the monsters he had created? Did he favor them over his daughter, his own flesh and blood?

It seemed so.

Tucking loose strands of her pale hair behind her ears, Sherry shook her head to herself. It didn't matter what her father thought or felt anymore because he wasn't  _really_  her dad anymore, was he? The G virus was unforgiving, she knew, because she had seen it before in her dad's lab. It would only continue to advance and, at some point, there would be no semblance of her father left.

If it came down to it, would she kill him?  _Could_  she kill him?

She turned the revolver over in her hands, studying it intently as she did so. Her thumb brushed over the cylinder and she traced the trigger with her index finger.

Sherry told herself that whether or not she would or could kill her dad didn't matter because, somehow, she didn't think a handgun would be enough to do it anyway.

* * *

A hard shove against her shoulder stirred her from sleep. Claire whimpered as she opened her eyes and found that her vision was still failing, but the blur before her was familiar.

"It's time to go." Sherry insisted, tugging at the shoulder of Claire's shirt.

Claire attempted to stand, but fell back into the chair. It felt as though her legs had been swept out from beneath her and she cursed under her breath, feeling impossibly useless. She hated it, hated this, hated  _herself_  for letting this happen.

"It's okay."

She heard rustling and Sherry's fingertips were at her lips, cool and soothing against her flushed skin.

"These herbs aren't enough to cure it, but it'll tide you over. You just have to chew them."

Claire parted her lips and allowed Sherry to slip the herbs into her mouth. She cringed at the bitter taste, holding her breath to keep from breathing in their musty odor. The texture was grainy between her teeth and they were impossibly dry, partially on account of the horrible case of cotton mouth she had fallen victim to. Swallowing the powder was torture, but she managed.

She couldn't remember the trip to the cable car, but she suddenly found herself stretched out on one of the benches within. The air inside was cool and clean, a welcome contrast to the climate of the sewers. Claire draped an arm over her chest, cradling her ribs. Her skin was damp with perspiration and her clothes were crusted to her skin and she found herself fantasizing about the incredibly long shower she'd take if she managed to survive this ordeal.

The cable car lurched forward and she felt her heart seize on account of the guilt that came over her once again.

_I'm so sorry, Leon._

She felt a tear run down the side of her face, but couldn't summon the energy to wipe it away.

_I guess I wasn't as strong as I thought._

The corner of her mouth curled upward into a wry smile.

_Chris, I'm sorry for being such a dumbass._

She shifted onto her side to try to alleviate the pain in her chest.

_I'll take care of mom and dad...and I'm totally going to haunt your sorry ass._

Claire opened her eyes and looked over at Sherry's blurred form.

"You're going to make it out, Sherry." She assured her.

Sherry didn't miss a beat with her retort.

"I know. So are you, Claire."


End file.
